More Precious than Rubies
by Strange Soulmates
Summary: Harry Potter has escaped from his dragon-guarded tower. So has his fellow prisoner, the dragon who guarded him. Harry sets off to find the one responsible for imprisoning them both. Accompanied by a stranger with a familiar name, Harry finds himself with more questions than answers as he slowly learns about the customs of dragons and the history of the dragon he befriended. TR/HP
1. Chapter 1

**I know the summary sounds all serious, but this is intended to be a largely lighthearted fluffy fic about a possessive, smitten dragon courting an oblivious human with very little plot. I anticipate it being three or four chapters total, but I am also terrible at judging these things, so *shrugs*. First story I'm posting in this pairing (and this fandom) though I have others in the works.**

 **Unbeta'd at the moment, so please forgive any mistakes.**

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Harry Potter stared morosely into the fire before him, fingers running over the broken circlet of metal in his hands. Gone. He was gone.

There was a rustling noise off to the side, and Harry's hand flew to the dagger on his belt even as he reached his will out for his magic. He reached out for the wards he had placed around his campfire, finding them still perfectly intact.

Harry had based his wards upon intent, and for the stranger to have walked across them without them repelling the figure or even notifying Harry meant that the man bore Harry no ill-will.

Still, Harry didn't let himself relax completely. Not yet. His trust was harder to earn now than it would have been a year ago.

"Hail, traveler," an unfamiliar voice called out from the same direction the noise had come from. "Would you be willing to share your fire? The night is unseasonably cold."

This much was true, Harry knew. And he would never want a stranger to come to harm because of him.

"I am wary of sharing with strangers," Harry began, loosening his grip on his knife but not his magic, "but I welcome the opportunity to make new friends."

The man stepped forward until he was in the circle of light cast by the fire. His cloak, Harry could tell, was well-made. Sturdy, but clearly expensive. The brooch holding his cloak closed shone in the firelight, the gold turning almost red. Or perhaps that was the large ruby set into it. His boots were dragonhide, and Harry had to fight off a frown at that observation. It never would have bothered him before, and if the reason for Harry's new reluctance was aware of it he would have laughed at him.

This traveler clearly came from obscene amounts of money. And to travel with it, alone and on display like that, clearly meant he was more that capable of defending himself.

Harry felt some of the tension ease out of his spine. Being robbed was a remote possibility, then. Nothing of Harry's could compare to what the man already had.

The man reached out and lowered the hood of his cloak and Harry inhaled sharply, grateful that the darkness hid the heat of his cheeks. He was gorgeous. Aristocratic features, sharp cheekbones, and full lips combined to form a face that stole the moisture from Harry's mouth. The stranger was beautiful. Almost inhumanly so.

"I am at your service then," he said, bending at the waist to offer Harry a polite bow. "Might I ask your name?" he asked as he straightened, dark eyes fixed on Harry intently in the flickering firelight.

Harry had the feeling it was a sign of respect this man rarely deigned to bestow upon others.

"Harry Potter," he responded with a deep nod. "Forgive me for not returning the gesture, but…" he indicated his own position near the fire.

"No offense has been taken," the stranger responded. Harry once again got the strange sense that this was a rare occurrence.

"And what is the name of my newest friend?" Harry asked.

"You may call me Tom Riddle," the stranger answered.

Harry felt the name like a blow against his stomach, and air escaped his lungs in a sharp gasp, eyes falling involuntarily to the object still in his hands. He gripped it tightly, the metal edges biting into his skin helping to keep him grounded. It had been Harry's intention to wallow in his fears and insecurities in front of the fire this evening before putting it all away to carry out his new quest tomorrow. This obviously wasn't an option, what with his company, but his emotions were still raw and close to the surface.

"I had a friend called Tom," Harry told his companion hoarsely.

The stranger sank gracefully to the ground cater-corner to where Harry himself was sprawled. "Had?" he asked.

"I knew him for more than a year," Harry stared into the fire, letting his eyes defocus as he turned his attention inward. "We lived together, though not by choice. Still, the arrangement…he was the best part of it. The only part of it I would want to keep. But I woke up away from where I'd been living one day and by the time I made my way back he was gone."

Harry reached out with his magic for the broken collar in his hands. The magic that had bound him and Tom had dissipated completely, but the blasted thing had kept Tom restrained for so long that some of Tom's magic had seeped into it.

"What do you know of the castle northwest of here, just off the river?" Harry asked Riddle, curious to see what stories had spread.

"Trapped in the tower is a man. Some say he is a prince, put there for his protection. Some a powerful sorcerer, locked away by another magic user jealous of his power." Riddle answered in a smooth baritone.

Harry's brow furrowed. There was something almost familiar about the voice. But He shook off the notion at once. Riddle, he was sure, had a face he would never have forgotten if he'd seen it before.

"All the tales agree that he is guarded by a dragon." Riddle finished.

"Not just any dragon," Harry said, a wry smile pulling across his lips. "A fierce and incredibly powerful dragon. Vicious and merciless. An exceptional dragon. My friend."

He could feel Riddle's gaze on him, but didn't turn to look. He didn't want to deal with the judgment in his eyes. With Harry's emotions as volatile as they were, he was likely to hex the man. And that was no way to go about making friends. Besides, something told him this was not a man he would want for an enemy.

"You make interesting friends, Harry," Riddle said.

He let out a mirthless bark of laughter. "You're one of them," he replied, twirling the collar in his hands.

"I am," the man affirmed. "And when you come to know me more, you will find I fit the category rather well, I imagine."

"And how will I come to know you?"

"Finish your tale, and I will repay you with one of my own," Riddle answered easily.

"A fair trade," Harry conceded. And talking was helping. Perhaps in telling this story, he could get at least some release from the emotions that plagued him.

"The man was no prince," Harry said with a derisive scoff. He couldn't even imagine what a nightmare it would have been to have been born royal. "Nor was he a sorcerer. A simple wizard, with very little training in his craft."

Riddle's eyes shot to him at once. "How little? I'm sure I encountered the work of this…unknown wizard earlier. The wards around your fire, for example. They did not feel untrained or simple to me."

"A handful of lessons from a friend and his family to give him enough control not to hurt himself or others with outbursts of power," Harry answered honestly. Meeting the Weasleys had been such a blessing on so many levels. "But no real instruction until he was locked up in that tower."

Riddle stared at him, eyes wide and intent, something about his expression almost avaricious.

"The man has no more idea than the townsfolk why he was imprisoned," Harry said, the words bitter in his mouth. "But he is seeking answers, as well as his lost friend."

"Indeed?"

Harry nodded. "The man wasn't the only prisoner in that tower. What people don't understand is that the dragon was trapped as well."

"Was he? Did he not simply act as a dragon will?" Riddle asked, and if Harry had been paying more attention he might have heard the low rumble in his voice. "Protecting what belongs to him?"

"Yes," Harry said, "but it wasn't his choice what he was guarding. And it wasn't his choice to keep guarding it. The jailor took that from him with this," Harry spat angrily, holding up the collar.

Riddle stared at it with barely concealed hatred. "So the dragon is free, then? This Tom of yours?"

"Yes," Harry said, relief and disappointment warring in his chest. "I know he would hate me keeping this, when it's what kept him prisoner for god only knows how long," Harry confessed. "But it's all I have left of him."

The dark eyes flicked from the collar to Harry's face and softened.

"When I woke up…when I woke up not in my tower I was terrified," Harry confessed. Somehow telling a stranger in this compelling darkness, broken only by the light of the fire, seemed natural. Easier than he imagined telling his dearest friend Ron would. As if this man was already a familiar confidant.

"I thought he'd been killed," Harry choked out, voice breaking on the last word. "He's powerful, but not invincible, no matter what he'd like to believe. The odds of his being bested by a swordsman were remote, but they existed. Or perhaps the person who'd imprisoned us in the first place had moved me and done something to him."

"I snuck out of the room I was in, an inn in some nearby town, and made my way here, determined to see if he was still alive and what I could do to help. To heal him and set him free. Only to find no sign of my dragon and this," he held up the metal in his hand. "He managed to free himself."

Harry took a deep breath before continuing, forcing the next words out. The most painful of all.

"I though if he were free…I thought if he had the choice he would chose me. That he would take me with him," Harry confessed, hurt that this had not been true and ashamed that he'd wanted such a thing in the first place. "I guess I thought wrong."

"Oh Harry," Riddle said softly. "I'm certain your Tom has other plans for you."

Harry gave a half-hearted smile, heart somewhat lighter. "Perhaps after he's checked on his hoard, he'll come back and eat me as he was always threatening to do."

Riddle let out an undignified snort. "You are much too scrawny to make a decent meal for anyone."

The familiar words sent a sharp pang though his heart, but it was easier to ignore this time.

Riddle reached to his belt, and Harry felt himself tensing and tightening his hold on his magic. When the hand emerged from under his cloak, it held not a weapon as Harry had feared it might, but rather a simple small leather pouch. With his magic already poised as it was, he was able to detect the traces on it. An unfamiliar signature, but a familiar spell. The bag was much, much larger on the inside than it was on the outside.

"Have you had supper this evening?" Riddle asked him.

Harry's felt his hackled raise immediately, the scene far too familiar. He would not make the same mistake twice.

"No."

Riddle pulled out a loaf of traveler's bread, a hunk of cheese, and a jar of what appeared to be sliced apples preserved in honey. He offered them all to Harry. "As thanks for your sharing your fire."

The bread alone he would have been able to easily resist. The cheese would have been slightly more tempting. But the apple…the apple was what tipped him over the edge. Trapped as he had been in the tower, which seemed to be able to magically provide him with only the simplest of meals, it had been a long time since he had seen fruit.

Still, he didn't ever think he'd seen fruit like this. More evidence of his companion's wealth – those with coin to spare distained raw fruit.

Harry reached out and took the food before he began casting every detection spell he could think of upon it. When all the results came back clean, he looked up to find Riddle gazing at him, somewhere between amused and offended.

"I don't mean to cause offense. It's just the last time this happened, I ended up in the tower. A stranger slipped some sort of sleeping draught into something I ate. Must have confunded me as well because no matter how hard I try I can't remember their face."

Riddles' lip pulled back in a snarl, and for a moment some trick of the firelight made his eyes seem to glow red. However, both had passed almost as quickly as they appeared, instead leaving an expression of sympathetic understanding.

"Of course. Wariness is only to be expected in such a situation. Indeed, if that is the case you are being remarkably accommodating, given your history."

"I couldn't leave you out there to freeze to death when I could have done something about it. Morals outweigh personal misgivings."

Harry shrugged and took a bite of the bread, satisfied that it had not been tampered with. As soon as he did, his eyes widened. He was hungry he knew. As soon as he'd woken in the inn he'd escaped and, upon realizing how close he was to his old tower, had immediately embarked on foot with no mind toward provisioning himself. And he'd spent nearly a year living on the same food day after day. Still, he didn't think his hunger or the months of bland food were quite enough to explain exactly how delicious he found it to be.

"I take it the bread is to your liking?" Riddle asked.

Harry nodded, tearing off another chuck, ravenously hungry and only just barely holding back a moan.

"Good," Riddle said, and if Harry had been paying attention to anything other than the food before him he would have seen the avid way the other man watched him, an expression of deep satisfaction on his face as Harry ate the food he had provided.

"Now, I believe I owe you a tale of my own," Riddle said. "Some entertainment while you eat?"

Harry paused in his eating. "I wouldn't be opposed," he answered.

"My parents," Riddle began, "both died when I was very young. And as we lived in a remote area, I was left to learn to fend for myself."

Harry stared at him and his obvious wealth incredulously. Noting the direction of his gaze, Riddle gave a smile of smug satisfaction.

"Looking at me now, it is difficult to believe, I know. But I am an entirely self-made man. All my riches I acquired on my own."

Harry was impressed. For a man of Riddle's age to possess as much as he clearly did, and for it all to be of his own doing was an incredible feat. Harry shared as much with the man sharing his fire and watched, captivated, as his eyes glowed with pleasure.

"Thank you, Harry. Coming from a man such as you, that is high praise indeed."

"A man such as me?" Harry asked, confused.

Riddle smiled mysteriously. "Yes," he said in response, but didn't elaborate.

Harry, uncomfortable with the man's gaze and confused by his comment, turned his attention to the cheese.

"I raised myself," Riddle continued. "It was difficult when I was smaller, but as I grew it became easier and easier to see to my own needs. After a number of experiences when I was young, however, I was wary of people," his eyes flashed with a sentiment stronger than wariness, but Harry said nothing. "I didn't seek out company for many years. But knowledge has always been one of my truest passions, and in the search of it I found myself in the company of those who had known my parents. They taught me the ways of the world that I had yet to figure out for myself, and answered what questions I had."

"To my dismay, I came from a very prestigious lineage that many thought had died out long before. I was welcomed into the world with open arms. Once I had proved myself worthy of that lineage, of course," Riddle's smile at this last comment was sharp enough to draw blood. Harry imagined that it probably had in the past.

"Still, I am largely a solitary creature, and so I set off in search of more obscure, arcane secrets and to grow my wealth even more. One of those most recent adventures ended…badly," Riddle said, mouth twisting into an angry frown. "I am still recovering, and I have yet to address the grievance. Still…" and his dark, intense stare fixed on Harry, "the journey was more than worth it, as I discovered a treasure more valuable than I had ever dared hope for as a direct result."

Harry felt trapped in the gaze, unable to do anything but stare back.

"I believe the one responsible for my injuries and the sorcerer who placed you in captivity are one in the same," Riddle said after a long moment spent simply examining Harry. "Will you permit me to accompany you as you search for him? I have resources which could be useful on our journey, and am more than capable of holding my own in a fight."

Harry had no doubt whatsoever that was true. And company wouldn't go amiss, both for his sanity and his safety. To trap a dragon, the man would have had to be powerful indeed.

"I need to find Tom first," Harry told him. "Just to see for myself that all is well. Once he's been found, then I'll seek my answers about my captivity."

"Very well," Riddle responded with a deep nod. "I'll accompany you, if you have no objections." Taking Harry's lack of response for the affirmation it was, he continued, "In the morning, then, we'll begin the search for your Tom."

Riddle agreed to take the first watch, and Harry cast a series of progressively more aggressive wards over his conjured bedroll, still wary of his new traveling companion. Riddle watched on, clearly amused, but said nothing.

Harry tossed and turned for long than he would have liked, but the events of the day soon caught up with him and sleep claimed him.

He woke to the sunlight piercing his eyelids, and he sat up sharply. He turned to where his companion had last been, ready to curse him for not waking Harry for his watch when he finally noticed what was saturating the air.

Magic. But not just any magic. Familiar magic. Tom's magic.

It hung in the air, clearly responsible for his late morning, and, he assumed, Riddle's failure to wake him, but that wasn't what held his attention. Placed neatly on top of his pack was a folded piece of bright green fabric, and atop that was something that glittered in the sunlight, all of it saturated with Tom's powerful magic.

Harry made his way over and reached out with unsteady hands to pick up the items in question. A green cloak, he realized as he let the fabric slide through his fingers as it unfolded. He knew the color would match his eyes perfectly. The material was soft, almost silky to the touch, and he could feel that the fabric had been imbued with magic. Magic to repel water, to keep in the heat and dispel the cold, to direct gazes elsewhere when he so desired. But strongest of all was the magic that protected the wearer from harm.

Fingers trembling, he turned his attention to the brooch that would hold the hooded cloak closed. A dragon forged in silver, wings flared in flight, red rubies for the eyes. Forged from the heat of Tom's fire and the will of his magic.

Harry pulled the cloak on, helpless to do anything else in the face of such thoughtful, heartfelt gifts. The protective magic flared and settled, and Harry's eyes burned with the strength of his reaction to the indisputable proof that Tom cared.

He turned, only to find Riddle staring at him, face impenetrable.

"Gifts?" he asked.

"From Tom," Harry answered, reaching up to run his fingers along the brooch.

Riddle's eyes traced the movement avidly before coming to rest again on Harry's own.

"Harry," Riddle said, staring at Harry with an intensity he didn't understand, "what do you know of the customs of dragons?"

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 **Please review. Seeing those notifications puts the biggest smile on my face. Come find me on tumblr, if you so desire. The username is the same (without the underdash). You can find a link on my profile. I'm always eager to talk about my stories and will post the occasional snippet.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and added bookmarks! I'm glad that other people are enjoying reading this self-indulgent fic as much as I'm enjoying writing it.**

 **Edited by the ever-patient Riley. Any remaining mistakes are all on me.**

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The day before yesterday, Harry had awoken to the light of the sun piercing though his eyelids. Harry frowned as he brought a hand up to cover his eyes. He'd been sure to close the curtains the night before. There was really only one plausible explanation, and Harry found it quite irritating.

"Tom!" he shouted as loud as he could manage in his groggy state, pulling back his hand and glaring at the window, "What on earth do you think you're playing at?"

A large red eye peered through the open window, the only part of his guardian visible due to the dragon's frankly astounding size. Harry had become quite adept at reading his dragon's expressions long before he'd weakened the magic binding both of them enough for his guard to be able to start communicating with him. The eye before him was clearly filled with amusement, only serving to irritate Harry even more.

"I only just went to bed a few hours ago," he grumbled angrily, grabbing his pillow and placing it over his face to block out both the light and the look in that eye. "Which," he continued, not caring that his speech was muffled by the pillow, "was _entirely_ your fault, you clod!"

Tom had spent the night before pointing out constellations, explaining not only their names and stories for the region Harry had grown up in, but many more as well. Harry's favorites, though, had been the draconic oral history. Tom had seemed to come alive when he talked about the stories of his species. Tom's enthusiasm lent a great deal to his story telling, and Harry took great enjoyment from watching his typically composed friend turn animated and excited as he told the tales. As much, if not more, enjoyment than he did from the tales themselves.

The names of the constellations had been beautiful when Tom had spoken them in the hissed language of the dragons. Harry had butchered every single one when he'd tried to pronounce them for himself. His efforts had left Tom equal parts exasperated and amused.

Harry had repaid Tom for the stars with tales of his own. None nearly so formal nor as grand as those that Tom had told him, ones with proper culture and history behind them. Instead Harry had told Tom the stories he used to tell himself when he'd lived with the Dursleys. The stars had been one of the only things they couldn't take from him.

Tom had listened with rapt attention, as if Harry's childish stories and simple names were somehow even more valuable than any of the others the dragon had somehow managed to collect. Harry had felt his heart swell under the stars that night, filled with gratitude for the unusual friend he'd somehow been blessed with.

Tom had then gone on to spend the rest of the night teaching Harry how to navigate by the stars.

"It's an essential skill for flying," Tom had told him, red eye peering down at Harry as he'd gestured with his clawed limbs at the brilliant expanse before them, "but I imagine it could come in useful in other situations. Navigation by ship, perhaps."

"Or when you've been kidnapped by a stranger and wake up with no idea of where exactly you are?" Harry had offered with a wry twist to his mouth.

"Exactly," Tom had said.

As fascinating as the stories had been, and as useful as learning to navigating by starlight was, Tom had kept Harry up until the sky had begun to lighten and the horizon had turned pink. Determined to enjoy at least another hour's worth of sleep, Harry ignored the huff he could hear from outside his window.

He had just begun to doze off again when a roar echoed through the small room Harry occupied at the top of the tower, loud enough that the room itself seemed to shake. Harry shot upright, his heart beating so hard in his chest it felt like it was trying to bludgeon its way out.

Harry threw the bedclothes off with hands that shook and stormed over to the window. Pressing his hands to the carved stone that made the sill of his window, he leaned out as far as he could.

His eyes immediately found a muzzle covered in scales blacker than night, and he followed it up until he found blood red eyes situated under a pair of long, terrifyingly sharp horns. There were other horns framing the dragon's face as well, but it was these horns that were the most impressive. Good for goring, he knew from personal observation, as sick as some of those memories made him.

"What is your _problem_ this morning?" Harry bellowed.

He didn't need to yell in order to be heard. Tom's hearing was impressive. He was able to distinguish all sorts of sounds as incredible distances. Harry knew that nothing he did within the confines of his prison were a secret from Tom. Tom's senses made that impossible. Still, the shouting made Harry feel better. He was tired and terrified and angry, and this was a way to work off some of that excess.

In his anger, he'd leaned far out of the window. Not far enough to lose his balance, but farther than he'd intended. He didn't realize this until the subject of his ire jerked forward suddenly.

Reflexes dulled by exhaustion and instinctual reactions dulled by months in Tom's company, Harry only managed a small, abortive jerk backwards before sharp teeth were embedded in his collar, dragging him out of the window.

Harry didn't struggle. The holes in the collar of ever shirt he possessed clearly attested to the fact that he was used to this treatment. Still, even after all this time it was unnerving to be so close to teeth designed to rip and rend his flesh to shreds.

Though it had been long enough that it was only that—unnerving. Repeated exposure had long since dulled the terror and leached away the quieter fear. Tom was no threat to him, he knew. The greater danger came instead from his clothing.

Collars were not designed to withstand dragon teeth, and it wasn't unusual for one to snap under the strain, sending Harry plunging through the air towards the ground. As tall as the tower was, there was no question in his mind that the impact would be disastrous. Still, Tom had never once let it get that far, always managing to cup Harry between two of his paws or put his tail or some other part of his body between Harry and the ground. The scales still hurt, yes, and the bruising was always spectacular. Still, it was far better than ending up splattered against the ground. So while he trusted Tom to catch him, it didn't stop the entire experience from being painful.

As angry as he was, Harry knew that swinging around and trying to fight Tom's hold on him would only encourage one of these incidents, so instead he settled for crossing his arms and plotting ways to get back at the bastard.

Those plans all went out the window when Tom settled down on the ground instead of setting Harry on his back like he would have if Tom planned to teach him or engage him in conversation. Instead, one wing flared outward and Tom reached out to gently place Harry on one of his hind legs

Harry's anger melted away instantly as the situation became clear. He focused on settling himself comfortably in the familiar crook between Tom's leg and his flank, scales pleasantly warm to the touch.

The bright light of the sun faded to almost nothing as Tom's wing settled protectively over Harry.

"Why didn't you just say you were lonely?" Harry asked, turning to look at Tom's head where it rested under the wing as well, close enough to touch.

Tom let out a huff of air in response. Harry knew it was supposed to be fearsome, but it had always struck him as more indignant. He'd never _shared_ that particular observation though. He wasn't stupid.

Still, Tom didn't refute the claim, and that was more than enough to cement for Harry that he was right.

"Stubborn dragon," Harry said, his voice almost embarrassingly fond.

He leaned over and reached out with one hand to run his fingers along the scales between Tom's nostrils. Tom let out a small puff of air and gave a pleased rumble. Harry let his hand trace the familiar scales over and over as he smiled.

"Shall we both catch up on the rest we dearly need?" Harry asked. "Now that everything is arranged to your satisfaction, you great controlling lizard?"

He got another rumble in response, and he could feel the vibrations, nestled as he was against Tom's side. Taking that as an affirmative, Harry settled back into his comfortable little nook, letting himself relax and closing his eyes. Tired as he was, it didn't take long for sleep to find him.

"Rest, my dear little pest," a familiar voice rumbled lowly. "Sleep. I shall watch over you. I will guard you, my one, my all."

Harry drifted off, unable to do anything else when he felt so warm and safe and cared for.

* * *

"The customs of dragons?" Harry asked, unsure he had heard correctly.

Riddle nodded in response.

Harry considered his answer carefully.

"More than most, I would wager, but not much. My friend, Hagrid, knows a great deal about all sorts of creatures, though he does have a special fondness for dragons. And Charlie Weasley, my best friend's brother, he's fascinated by them. Spends most of his time in a dragon's nest up in the mountains trying to learn as much as he can."

Riddle made a humming noise in consideration.

"There are very few circumstances under which dragons give gifts, Harry," Riddle said at last, gaze still fixed on Harry's new brooch. "They are possessive creatures who not only hoard things they find beautiful and valuable, but who strive to keep those things solely for themselves."

Harry snorted. That, he felt, was putting it mildly. After the third knight had come knocking to recue Harry from his prison, Tom had begun building a new hoard for himself from the remains of those who had come seeking. Harry felt the only reason he'd been permitted to see exactly what Tom had done with those pieces of armor and the shields was because there wasn't enough room for Tom to put it anywhere else.

In a secret corner of his mind, part of him wondered if it wasn't because he was part of that new hoard. Perhaps even the centerpiece.

Those thoughts had been painfully banished the day before when he'd been seeking Tom out and found the dragon and the entirety of Tom's new hoard gone. But in light of this morning, Harry wondered if perhaps he should reconsider.

"They have no problem with decorating the things they already consider theirs, though," Harry pointed out when it became clear Riddle was expecting some sort of response.

Harry glanced at his companion for his reaction, only to be taken aback. Riddle's gaze burned with a primal sort of satisfaction that seemed completely out of place in the context of the conversation, coupled with an almost terrifying avariciousness. Clearly Harry hadn't known the man long enough to read him properly, because that response made _no_ sense.

The look was gone almost as fast as it had appeared, giving Harry no chance to study it further. Still, something burned brightly in Riddle's gaze as he addressed Harry.

"That's very true, yes," Riddle responded. "Do you think Tom considers you _his?"_

"I think," Harry said slowly, "that after that long in captivity, there are certain things you do in order to cope. I know that dragons feel connected to their treasure, and I think that in order to keep himself from going crazy, Tom had to drastically shift his mindset in order to allow him to survive. Thinking of me as his would allow him to stay sane, and would make me being in his territory, and his magical directive to protect me, palatable to him. So, yes, I think Tom thinks of me as his. But I think it's mostly an artifact of our imprisonment, rather than out of genuine sentiment."

And that much was true.

Riddle stared at him intently. "Insightful, Harry. I take it your own affection, then, is of a similar caliber? Born only out of the necessity of captivity?"

Harry felt his magic flare outward in an angry burst, jaw clenched tightly. The anger had been quick and reflexive, boiling up out of him at the accusation almost faster than he could control.

"You _know_ that's not true," Harry all but snarled at him.

Riddle's only response was a quirk of his lips. "Then perhaps it would be best to give your dragon the courtesy of not jumping to conclusions?"

Harry's anger leaked out of him nearly as quickly as it had appeared, and he found himself giving Riddle a wry smile.

"You make a fair point, Riddle. Very well. I'll do my best not to doubt my friend's motives until he can explain them himself. Though that would be easier," Harry said, raising his voice in the likely scenario that his wayward, _possessive_ draconic friend was still lingering nearby. "if the bastard would actually _show_ himself so I could talk to him."

Riddle let out a small huff of amusement. "Perhaps I can shed some light on his motives, then, and explain his absence. To return to the original question, Harry, you are quite correct. Dragons are known to redecorate those things they claim to suit their tastes, or to use several lesser artifacts to adorn their more precious pieces. And while perhaps I might be persuaded to agree with your reasoning under other circumstances, I'm afraid that in this case you are wrong."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's true that dragons decorate those things that belong to them, yes. Though in that case it would not involve parting with the treasure at all, as both pieces would be safely ensconced in the dragon's hoard. As you are not secreted away in a mountain somewhere, we must look for alternative explanations."

Running the cloak between his fingers, Harry gestured for Riddle to continue.

"It's almost entirely against a dragon's nature to willingly part with treasure. In fact, there are only two circumstances under which it normally occurs. The first," Riddle said, holding up a finger "is when someone has done the dragon a great service. A gift is given both to show the dragon's gratitude and to release him from any magical debt that could be called in at a later date. The dragon's magic finds the treasure an acceptable alternative to some equal endeavor, and will release the dragon from the debt."

This made some sort of sense to Harry. While Harry had been the one to do his absolute best to drive Tom round the bend, it had been their magic together that had released the enchantment, or so Harry had begun to suspect.

"So he's giving me these things so that he magically satisfies a debt?" Harry asked Riddle.

The idea didn't sit well with him. As far as Harry was concerned, if anyone owed anyone else, it was Harry who owed Tom. For while it was his actions that had freed Tom's magic, it was Tom's instruction that had made it possible in the first place.

Harry opened his mouth to refute any debt Tom might have felt he owed him, but he was interrupted by Riddle before he had the chance.

"While perhaps that interpretation would make sense under the circumstances, though I can't really say given what I've been told, I can tell you right now that isn't the case. It seems that you, Harry, have the rare distinction of falling into the only remaining scenario."

"How do you know it's not the debt?" Harry asked, feeling slightly uneasy even without knowing exactly what the last scenario was. "I mean, you said it yourself. You don't really know anything at all about the circumstances."

Tom reached out across the space between them and tapped a finger against Harry's new brooch.

"The device on this brooch," Riddle said simply, removing his hand at last. "It's used under only one very specific circumstance, and it has nothing to do with paying back a debt."

"How exactly do you know so much about dragons?" Harry asked, staring at Riddle and trying to ignore the way his entire body seemed to be practically humming after how close Riddle had come to actually touching him. "Where are you coming up with this stuff? How do you know that any of it is even remotely accurate?"

Riddle's lips quirked up, and his expression seemed to speak of a barely suppressed amusement. "There are several dragons in my family tree."

Harry gaped at him. "You have dragon ancestors?"

"Yes," Riddle said with an amused quirk of his lips. "Several. As such, I know quite a bit about the interactions of dragons and humans. A great deal more than anyone else you're likely to encounter."

Harry's mind didn't seem to be able to process much of anything at the moment. Dragons. Riddle had dragons in his family tree.

"Dragons can have children with humans?" he croaked out at last.

"Yes," Riddle answered, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Harry.

Harry sank back down onto his bedroll, cloak clutched in his hands as he tried to process this new information. Dragons. Dragons and humans could be together. Could reproduce.

A warm hand against his shoulder brought him out of his spiraling thoughts enough to come back to his surroundings somewhat. Riddle's handsome face stared down at him, eyes warm even as his brow was creased in concern.

Harry found himself laughing hysterically. Inhumanly beautiful, he'd thought before. Apparently he'd been right.

Riddle frowned and reached out, placing his other hand on Harry's other shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

Harry reached up and wrapped his hand around one of Riddle's wrists, trying to ground himself again. He didn't answer, focusing instead on calming his somewhat hysterical laughter.

"Is the idea really that appalling to you?" Riddle asked, his voice strained and posture tense. Harry could feel the way he was holding himself frozen, how tense the muscles in his arms were.

That jerked Harry right out of his shock.

"No!" he shouted.

The reaction he knew, was too vehement for Riddle's question. Yes, he wanted to reassure Riddle that he didn't hold his heritage against him, that he had no issue with those who came from unions between different species. And that was true. But his reaction was _more_ than that.

"No," he said again softly. "Not at all."

He found the idea rather wonderful, actually.

"I was shocked," Harry told him.

"And apparently slightly hysterical," Riddle said, but he was smiling widely and Harry could feel that he had relaxed.

"Apparently," Harry said, returning the grin with one of his own. "Can you blame me? I just...I've never heard of this before."

"It's rare," Riddle admitted. "Very rare. And as such, is far from common knowledge. Human children from these unions are even more rare."

That piqued Harry's curiosity. "Why?"

"Because they only result when the parents aren't mated," Riddle said.

Harry's hand tightened around Riddle's wrist subconsciously.

"Mated?" he all but whispered.

"Mated," Riddle answered, expression soft, his hands tightening almost imperceptibly on Harry's shoulders. "Bound together magically after a ritualistic courtship. One that starts with gift-giving."

Riddle's eyes slid from Harry's face down to the brooch before making eye contact once again and raising his eyebrows meaningfully.

Harry looked down at the brooch as well, at the cloak it held closed. He reached out with his magic and felt the way the two were absolutely saturated with protective intent. It was only then that he finally allowed himself to connect the points that Riddle had so carefully made.

"No," Harry said, disbelieving. "No. There's no way."

"That device," Tom said, gesturing to the position of the dragon on the brooch, "only means one thing, Harry. It's used only when dragons are courting."

"You're wrong," Harry told him, chest tight, but utterly convinced of what he was saying.

Riddle gritted his teeth. "And what makes you so sure of that?"

"Because I've _met_ Tom and you haven't," Harry said, thinking of his draconic companion. "There's no way he'd...there has to be some other explanation."

"The brooch makes other interpretations impossible," Riddle told him, eyes boring into Harry's own, making it impossible to turn his face to the ground as he so desperately wanted to. "Perhaps he owes you a debt, but even so…"

"He doesn't," Harry stated firmly. "And even if he somehow thought he did, I would forgive it without though. Anything he might be in my debt for would have been impossible to do without his help. Tom owes me nothing."

The air took on a sharp, charged quality as a magical pressure built up. As soon as Harry noticed it, however, the air seemed to sort of...snap, and the pressure vanished.

Riddle stared at him in shock before he began to laugh.

"A simple wizard, you said," Riddle said once he had calmed somewhat. "Oh, Harry, you don't see yourself at all, do you?"

"What makes you say that?" Harry asked, taken aback by the sudden change in mood.

"You felt that, yes?" Riddle asked, taking the hand not currently trapped by Harry's grip off his shoulder in order to gesture at the air around them.

"Of course I did," Harry said. It would have been nearly impossible _not_ to feel it, given how strong the magic in the air had been. The only thing that surprised him was that Riddle had felt it as well. The man seemingly had no magic of his own, and thus no means of sensing the magic around him. Harry felt his suspicions rise. "How did you?"

Riddle lips quirked in a barely there smile.

"A fair question. I attribute my abilities and sensitivity to my heritage," Riddle said by way of explanation.

That actually made a great deal of sense. Creature inheritance could give people all sorts of unusual skills that they might not normally possess. And no one could dispute how magically powerful dragons were. And Riddle had indicated he might have had more than one in his family tree.

"Fair enough," Harry said, finally letting his hand fall from Riddle's wrist, embarrassed that he'd been holding it for so long.

Riddle removed his hand from Harry's shoulder as soon as Harry released his hold. His movements were slow, though. Almost reluctant.

"As to the point I was originally trying to make," Riddle said, leaning back, "do you know what _caused_ that magic we felt?"

Harry shrugged and shook his head, having no idea where this was going.

"That, Harry, was the result of you freeing your dragon from a debt."

"Good," Harry said.

"Harry, you don't understand," Riddle said with a smile.

"I had that feeling, yeah," Harry said. "And I take it you will once again shed light on the situation?"

"It will always be my pleasure to do so," Riddle said, flashing his teeth in a sharp grin. "As I'm sure you might have guessed, I have a fondness for more esoteric subjects. I enjoy collecting knowledge in general, of course, but it's the more obscure things that truly appeal to me. I'd be more than happy to share anything within any of my various areas of expertise with you, should the occasion ever present itself."

The words sparked a connection in Harry's mind and he found himself eyeing his new traveling companion. Liked to surround himself with wealth, confident to the point of arrogance, suspiciously familiar with dragons, and apparently enthusiastic about weird obscure bits of knowledge, especially ones related to magic. All very familiar.

Harry studied his companion with interest, looking for some sign in the man's appearance that perhaps here was his wayward friend. The timing had been suspiciously convenient, it was true, and Riddle's presence might then explain Tom's absence. But as closely as he looked, he couldn't find any similarities between the black scaled, red-eyed, vicious dragon he had come to care for and the ridiculously handsome man beside him. He'd been able to read Tom very well by the end of their time together. Perhaps those same tells would be different on human features.

More observation, then, before he did anything. Though at least now he knew what to get Riddle should the opportunity ever arise. Rare, obscure tomes it was.

"The debt was one made and enforced by dragon magic, Harry," Riddle said. "Surely even with your minimal training, you understand at least the basics of what that means."

Condescending prick, Harry thought, but it was with amusement and fondness rather than with malice. He had enough experience with this flavor of prickly to know exactly how to deal with it.

"Dragon magic is some of the strongest magic there is," Harry answered, fighting the instinct to roll his eyes as well as the smile trying to work its way onto his lips. "It's supposed to be wild."

"Wild," Riddle said with a thoughtful look. "Yes, that's a good word for it. But the most important part here is that dragon magic is powerful. Incredibly so. And if dragon magic decided that your dragon owed a debt, then for most people there would be nothing to do but to repay it."

Harry stared at him, confused. He had no idea what exactly Riddle was trying to get at. It was a feeling that was becoming distressingly familiar, for all that they had only known each other for a few hours. Or so Harry assumed. He still wasn't ready to examine any other possibility too closely.

"Harry, only magic comparable with that of the dragon magic enforcing the debt would be able to release it."

Harry stared at him, uncomprehendingly. For the second time in a short span, Harry found his brain not quite connecting things in any sort of way that made sense. Harry wasn't powerful. He was just…just average. Just Harry.

"That...that can't be right," he stuttered out.

"You felt it, Harry. We both did. And like with the brooch, there simply is no other explanation."

Harry just stared at him. Too much. Too much to process, too much he wanted to believe but just _couldn't._

"The theory that you were kidnapped by a jealous sorcerer who felt threatened is starting to hold more weight," Riddle muttered, talking as much to himself as Harry.

Still, this was a topic of conversation that appealed to Harry. One that was both pertinent and steered clear of the more confusing subjects, such as his friendship with his dragon.

"Maybe," Harry said with a shrug. "I mean, if you're making these assumptions, maybe the sorcerer, if that's what he was, did as well. Why Tom though? Trapping a dragon is _incredibly_ difficult, and it can't be done with just any kind of magic. The enchantments on the collar alone were ridiculous. I don't like to think about what it took to get him in it in the first place."

And Harry really didn't. Tom wasn't the kind of person to take an attempt like that lying down. Which meant a fight. And after seeing Tom defeat over a dozen well-trained knights, he knew that a fight like that wouldn't have been anything tame.

"Perhaps to guard you," Riddle said contemplatively. "Wasn't that what the enchantment was forcing him to do, after all? After all, you don't exactly strike me as the type to simply sit still and accept confinement."

Harry snorted. That was an understatement. He'd attempted to escape a grand total of thirteen times in the first week alone. He'd stopped as time went on and he realized that Tom was captive as well, instead channeling his restlessness into trying to break the enchantment keeping them captive. Tom had done his best to keep Harry distracted when the sense of being trapped became too strong, though he had a feeling it had been as much for the dragon's sake as for his own.

"Not really," Harry responded, but he was distracted by another thought. "If we go with the assumption that someone captured a dragon and put them there to guard me, which I'm not sure I believe quite yet, it still doesn't make sense. Why Tom? He's incredibly strong. There are lots of other dragons that could have served the exact same function but wouldn't have been anywhere near as difficult to subdue or to keep controlled."

Riddle narrowed his eyes, brow furrowed in thought. "An excellent point."

"Should I be offended that you sound almost surprised by that?" Harry asked, more amused than anything else.

"I'm not surprised that you had insight to offer. That's part of why I'm here after all. No, I'm more surprised that it hadn't occurred to me before," Riddle said, brow still furrowed.

Harry let him think in peace, spending his time inspecting his cloak in more detail and quietly mulling over his own suspicions about the situation.

"Well, there's no point dwelling on it so much now," Riddle said with a shrug.

He stood, straightening to his full height and stretching before offering Harry his hand.

Harry accepted the help and Riddle pulled him to his feet easily.

"Far too much heavy discussion is being had on an empty stomach," Riddle said. "Breakfast? And then we'll decided what our next move should be."

"Food sounds like an excellent idea," Harry said. " I think you'll probably need your hand back at some point. And I know I will," Harry said, looking down at where Riddle's hand was still wrapped around his own. "So maybe you should let my hand go?"

Riddle looked down as well, though he made no move to release Harry's hand.

"I suppose I should, yes" he said.

Harry looked at him pointedly. Riddle merely gave a small smile in return.

"Are you going to then?" Harry asked, starting to become embarrassed.

"If I must," Riddle said, giving Harry's hand a small squeeze and lingering somewhat before finally letting go. "Now, let us break our fast, shall we? We've got a long day of travel ahead of us, I imagine, whatever decision we make about our next step."

"What?" Harry asked, trying to ignore the warmth and tingling from his hand.

"You were planning to look for your dragon, yes?" Riddle asked. "But it seems that your dragon found you rather than the other way around. Meaning that searching for him is no longer necessary. So, what is our next step now?"

"If Tom's here," Harry began, and there wasn't much doubt in his mind that his dragon was nearby, he thought, gaze lingering on Riddle speculatively for a moment, "then why isn't he _here_?"

And that was one of the few factors keeping him from really believing his own suspicions.

Tom wasn't one to worry about making other people comfortable. In fact, he seemed to revel in instilling fear. So disguising himself really made no sense. And it was a given that Tom was nearby. The gifts made that impossible to ignore.

While Harry was talking, Riddle had been rummaging in the pouch from the night before, and he passed Harry another small loaf of bread.

"The rules of dragon courtship are incredibly complex and, at times, seemingly arbitrary," Riddle told him. "And one of the core tenets of the first stage of courtship is that the _dragon_ may not approach the person he or she is courting until they have been given permission to court."

Harry glared at Riddle. "Are we back to this again? I thought I told you, there's no way Tom's courting me."

"Eat your breakfast," Riddle told him, "And you objected, yes, but I never agreed with you."

Harry glared at Riddle, offended on multiple levels. Still, he once again began running his gauntlet of tests on the food he had been provided. One of the first things he'd asked Tom to teach him, once Tom had offered to aid in his magical instruction. He refused to be fooled twice.

"You think Tom holds affection for you, correct?" Riddle asked. "That opinion is clearly supported by the gifts, regardless of the fact that we disagree on their exact nature. Now, does Tom strike you as the sort to stay away voluntarily?"

Harry snorted. "Not even a little bit. Possessive bastard," he said, fond. "He wouldn't even let me sleep places he couldn't get to me, most of the time."

"And the gifts themselves once again clearly demonstrate that Tom is capable of reaching you," Riddle pointed out. "So then what could possibly keep him away?"

Harry took a bite of his bread to avoid responding. He didn't really have an answer. Tom was a stubborn, possessive bastard. He'd hated letting Harry out of his sight, and had a preference for him being as close as possible.

Typically on literally on top of Tom, if the controlling brat of a lizard had everything his way, which he usually did.

"So, there's something keeping him away then," Riddle said, no doubt reading Harry's answer on his face. "Can you think of anything that would do the trick?"

Harry took another bite, once again avoiding the question, for all that he pondered it. Magic, really. The only answer was magic.

"Something went wrong when I broke the enchantment," Harry said after he had swallowed. "It's the only thing I can think of. Something that powerful, that intricate...I wasn't careful when I broke it. That could easily have had unintended consequences."

Riddle looked frustrated. "You're determined to believe you aren't being courted. Why?"

"Why are you so sure I am?" Harry asked. "I know you said you had dragons in your family tree, but you also said that human children could only result from those unions when the parents were unmated. So how do you know? If none of your ancestors could have been mated to a dragon, how could any information about mating have been passed to you through your family? Especially when you never had the chance to know your parents?"

Harry was fishing, he knew. Looking for some sign either way about whether Riddle and his Tom were one and the same. And if they weren't, then it was even more important that Riddle defended his knowledge.

Riddle took a deep breath, lips pressed together as he fought to keep himself under control. Then Riddle gave a tight smile, one corner of his mouth twitched up.

"You were listening. I'm glad. Yes, my parents left me orphaned. All that I know of my family, I had to learn on my own. But that lack of information made me incredibly curious. I researched anything related to my family, my history, my ancestry, relentlessly. I even managed to track down several dragons and get some answers face to face."

"And they didn't eat you on sight?" Harry asked, surprised. If Riddle was human, that was an impressive feat indeed.

"You'll find I can be very persuasive," Riddle said with a sharp, dangerous smile.

Looking at him, Harry found that completely believable. He was grateful that Riddle had decided that he and Harry were to be friends. He didn't seem like someone anyone would want for an enemy.

For a brief moment, Harry almost felt sorry for the bastard who locked him up in the tower. He had no idea what was coming for him. Then Harry remembered that he'd _locked him up in a tower_ for a year and he decided that he deserved whatever Riddle had planned for him.

Still, the fact remained that Tom continued to be a problem, albeit not the sort of problem Harry had originally anticipated. Yesterday, he'd feared he'd have to hunt his friend down to ensure he was well. Instead he'd need to seek out some sort of magical expert to try and investigate what exactly had gone wrong. Because as much as Riddle seemed confident in his knowledge, Harry found the entire thing a little too surreal.

"You don't believe me," Tom said, staring at him.

"Oh no," Harry said. "I very much believe you. I don't doubt your abilities to persuade at all. It's your interpretation of the situation I'm not sure of."

Riddle stared at him intently. "Would the opinion of someone whose expertise you trust help convince you?"

"Yes," Harry said, "yes it would." Then he realized what exactly it was that he had said and started backpedaling. "Not that I don't trust you, per se."

"You shouldn't," Riddle interrupted him. "I only introduced myself yesterday."

"I have no reason _not_ to trust you," Harry said, glaring at the man across from him fo his unsolicited advice. "I just don't trust your expertise."

"Fair. You said your best friend's brother was a dragon enthusiast, yes? He's studied dragons. Spent time with them, you said?"

Harry nodded.

"Do you trust his expertise?" Riddle asked, staring at him intently.

Again, Harry could do nothing but nod.

This was actually an incredible idea. Harry desperately needed to see the Weasleys, to let them know that he was still alive. To see the people he thought of as family again, after a year without them.

"To the Weasleys, then," Harry said with a smile. "It's about time I went home."

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

**White10tailedwolf made me a fantastic piece of fanart, so you should all go lavish both it and the artist with praise. I've put the link up on my profile page.**

 **I'm so pleased so many of you are enjoying this fic. I can't tell you all how much your reviews, kudos, and bookmarks mean to me. Hopefully you all continue to enjoy it. I'm not even going to pretend to guess how long this fic is going to be anymore, since I'm just going to make myself a liar, but we do have plot progress! Please forgive any mistakes, as my beta is too busy with RL to have time to spare her expert eye. Much thanks to tumblr users white10tailedwolf and merdesmiroirs for the feedback on tumblr that helped get this chapter out.**

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* * *

When they'd set out, Harry was forced to confront the fact that he had no idea where, exactly, he was. When he'd confessed the same to Riddle, the man had given him an exasperated look.

"What?" Harry had told him defensively. "It's not like I was _conscious_ during my travel here."

"You were in town just yesterday," Riddle pointed out.

"Yes, but I wasn't exactly sticking around to ask anyone directions," Harry replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "I had other things on my mind. Mostly, while in town, how to get _out_ of it as quickly as possible. And then it was really just a simple matter of following the river back there," he said, gesturing with a jerk of his head in the direction of the castle.

Riddle heaved a heavy sigh, but the light in his eyes made it clear he wasn't as upset or put upon as he was trying to appear.

"The town you were so eager to escape from is called Riverdale," Riddle said.

Harry turned his attention inward, searching his memory for any relocation of the name. It didn't sound familiar. He shook his head at Riddle and shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it," Riddle said. "It's incredibly small and remote, which I imagine is part of what attracted your captor to this area in the first place."

Harry dipped his head in acknowledgement. There were any number of castles that someone with enough money or magic could have gotten their hands on without too much difficulty.

"It's not quite as off the beaten path as it used to be, from what I heard," Riddle said. "Apparently a dragon guarding something encourages tourism, though perhaps not quite enough to balance the idiots who flee."

Harry was about to try and cut the tangent off at the pass before he realized it wasn't a tangent.

"Information. There will be lots of information flowing in and out of Riverdale, given the traffic. Especially given that it's going to be people seeking adventure who are coming and going. People who travel a lot."

Riddle smiled at him, no doubt pleased that Harry had picked up what he had been suggesting.

"Exactly," Riddle said. "It's as good a place as any to start spreading the word of your freedom, and to see if there's any news to be had about your Weasleys."

The first he'd been expecting. He was planning on writing the Weasleys as soon as possible, but one never knew what kind of news would reach people first. The second took him by surprise.

"It's been a year," Riddle said gently, no doubt seeing the confusion on his face. "Things might have changed. New businesses, new homes. Those sorts of things."

"There _are_ nine of them," Harry admitted. "Arthur and Molly are very attached to the family home, but the children are all adults. It's not impossible that they would have moved."

"And you don't exactly strike me as a man that people wouldn't be looking for," Riddle replied.

Ron and Hermione. It had been one of Harry's greatest fears that one day the knights raiding the tower would be his friends, and that Tom would eat them before Harry had a chance to call him off. They'd settled on a compromise eventually, but those first few deaths had nearly destroyed him while he waited for confirmation that the knights in question were no one he knew.

Harry was certain they'd try and keep word spread as to what they were doing and where Harry could find them, on the off chance he managed to get himself out of trouble on his own. It had happened, from time to time, but more often than not it was Ron and Hermione who had pulled him out of the fire. There was a reason he wasn't allowed to go on adventures alone anymore.

"So, first stop is town, clearly," Harry said. "While I'm sure you have provisions and such, I'll need some clothes. Send some letters as well, let people know I'm alive while we travel. Maybe pick up some horses?"

Riddle shook his head at the last. "Horses spook around dragons, Harry. And your Tom is going to be following us every step of the way. If we were to purchase any, they'd simply run later tonight and be gone long before morning." His face took on a thoughtful expression. "Assuming Tom didn't just eat them outright, of course."

Harry buried his head in his hands and heaved a sigh. Tom would do it, too.

"Where exactly is this town, anyway? Relative to other things," Harry clarified.

The stars were helpful, yes, but they only gave directions. Harry didn't have a reference point to make them useful.

"Riverdale is on the west side of the Case Inlet," Riddle said.

Harry swore, and Riddle shot him a look that demanded an explanation.

"The Weasleys live on the _east_ side of the inlet," Harry replied.

As the crow flies, it was a relatively short distance from one side of the inlet to another as far as water voyages went. Some two hundred nautical miles, which was only two day's journey by ship. Two days journey, which meant a night spent at sea.

The trip itself would be no problem for Tom. Between Hagrid and Bill, along with Tom's boasting, Harry knew that dragons were capable of covering incredible distances at incredible speeds. Crossing the inlet would be only a few hours work for Tom.

And therein was the problem. Harry knew enough of his friend to know that Tom would be careful about not being seen, but Tom also tended to get techy when Harry was out of his reach. And a techy Tom near a highly flammable harbor was a recipe for disaster. With Harry trapped on a boat overnight and thus out of his overprotective view, things just wouldn't end well.

And, well, if Harry's ridiculous hunch about Riddle was correct, the boat was out anyway. Putting a restless, impatient dragon in close quarters with humans was an equally bad idea.

"Traveling by ship would be impossible," Harry muttered aloud. "We'll have to go around. On foot. Damnit!"

Weeks. It would take _weeks_ to get to the Burrow without the benefit of horses. Perhaps even months, depending on the weather.

Riddle clenched his jaw in irritation, but a careful study of Harry's face had him nodding. "If you think that's best under the circumstances, then yes."

"Impatient?" Harry asked, studying the man before him critically.

"Very much so, yes," Riddle replied guilelessly.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I've been waiting to set things in motion for quite some time, Harry," Riddle answered, brown eyes boring into Harry's own. "The faster we can get them properly underway, the better."

Harry had to concede the point. If he was waiting for vengeance, he wasn't sure he'd patient about things either. He wasn't sure exactly what the nameless sorcerer had done to Riddle, but he was certain that Riddle was going to make whoever it was regret it deeply.

That Riddle had come to seek him out said a great deal about what Riddle felt he needed to exact his revenge properly. Still, he didn't strike him as the sort with a limitless amount of patience. How long would Riddle put up with these tangents before he put his foot down about them? Before he left Harry for better prospects when it came to his revenge?

The thought sent a pang through Harry. It had only been a day, but Harry already found himself strangely attached to the other man. Perhaps the ties had formed so quickly because he was the first human face Harry had seen in years.

Perhaps it was something else, Harry thought, once again trying to find the similarities between Riddle and his missing friend.

"Well, there's nothing more to be done here," Riddle told him. "And if we're going to be on a journey that will likely last us several months, we should get started as soon as possible."

Harry nodded in agreement. He considered packing things by hand, but with his recent fears about Riddle's impatience, he thought expediency was probably the best option. Harry reached for his magic, grateful once again for those months of practice with Tom without any focus but his own will. With a wave of his hand, his transfigured bedroll rolled itself up and shrunk down to a manageable size. He reached down and picked up the roll, which now fit easily in his palm.

His hand automatically went to his belt, only to remember that he had nothing to store it in. All his belongings had disappeared when he'd been taken, leaving him only the clothes his captor had provided him with. When he'd gone looking for Tom, he'd found the knife he now wore under the bed, clearly missed when the dragon had gathered his new hoard. The bedroll he'd transfigured from his old linens in the room.

He was _woefully_ unprepared. For anything, really, let alone any kind of long journey.

Harry turned to Riddle with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Would you mind?" he asked him, holding the bedroll out.

Riddle reached out took it, examining it critically. Sensing the magic on it, no doubt.

"Conjured?" he asked as he slipped it into the pouch on his belt.

"Transfigured," Harry replied. "Not a whole lot to work with after a year trapped up in that tower. I was planning on doing the occasional magical odd job to get the provisions I needed."

"It's a good thing I came along then, isn't it?" Riddle asked wryly as he secured the pouch back on his belt, exposing the fine leather and jeweled ornaments.

"A very good thing," Harry said with a smile, and meant it, though not at all for the reasons Riddle thought. "If I didn't have company these next weeks, I'd probably go insane."

Riddle gave him a long look before shaking his head slightly, small smile on his lips. "Oh, Harry. You're something else." Riddle gestured with his hand towards the town. "Shall we? It seems you are in desperate need of supplies. And I'll be more than happy to help with provisions, as I was trying to say earlier."

Harry began walking, Riddle easily keeping pace with him. He wanted to protest Riddle's paying for things, but the fact of the matter was that the situation was complicated enough without his pride getting in the way. There was no sense in holding things up even more.

"I'll repay you," Harry said. "As soon as we find ourselves anywhere near my bank."

Riddle rolled his eyes. "If that is the only means by which I can compel you to accept the money, then by all means. Repay me. But know that I find the entire process entirely unnecessary."

"Well, I don't," Harry said, and left it at that.

They walked in silence, and Harry was surprised by how comfortable he found Riddle's quiet company. As the distance between them and Riverdale shrank, he found himself growing more and more anxious, the remembered panic from yesterday flowing through his veins.

Still, at the same time he couldn't help but be excited. People. A town full of them. For the first time in a year, he'd be around other human beings.

He'd been there yesterday, it was true, but he'd spent his entire time escaping, trying to avoid catching anyone's attention. He could count the number of people he'd actually caught sight of on one hand.

As they got closer to town, the sounds began to change. From wind and rustling and bird calls to the calls of various livestock, the sounds of voices shouting, and the sounds of various machinery. The smell of fresh air replaced by smoke and waste and too many people packed too close and baking bread.

Riddle's hand rested against his shoulder when he came to a stop just outside the walls that surrounded the town.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Just…trying to acclimatize a bit. I know it's just a small town, but it's still a little overwhelming."

"Understandable," Riddle, said. "Take your time, Harry. We'll go when you're ready."

Harry gave him a grateful smile. Taking a few moments, he concentrated on his breathing, on listening to the sounds, more than grateful for Riddle's hand on his shoulder, grounding him. The anxiety faded, overshadowed by the excitement. He was free. He was finally free.

He opened his eyes, straightening his spine, a smile on his face. Riddle's hand fell away from his shoulder, eyes fixed on his face. Harry could see the tension he hadn't noticed before around Riddle's eyes easing.

"Shall we?" Riddle asked him.

"We shall," Harry said with a firm nod.

Riverdale was small. Riddle had been right about that much. Too small, generally, to need fortification, and it seemed as if the walls surrounding it were indeed very new. Harry hadn't really taken the time to observe them much the day before, but looking at them now it was obvious that stone wasn't weathered.

"What a waste of money," Harry remarked as he studied them.

"How so?" Riddle asked as they approached the gate.

"The walls were obviously built to keep Tom out," Harry told him. "I mean, they're new, and this is a small agrarian town far from any borders. Tom's really the only possible motivation. In which case they're utterly pointless. The enchantment wouldn't have let him get this far. Even if it had, those walls wouldn't do _anything_ to deter him. A waste," Harry finished with a shrug.

Riddle studied the walls with a small smirk. "Very true, Harry. No dragon would find these any sort of deterrent at all."

Harry gave him a quelling glare. Riddle's last comment had been far too loud. They had arrived at the gate, and the last thing he wanted was to deal with a touchy and defensive guard. He cast a quick look at the man in question and had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Calling the man a guard was too generous. He clearly had no training of any sort, and if Harry had been determined, it would have been the work of only a moment to dispatch him.

Instead he gave the man a small, polite smile. Or at least he hoped it was. Harry was a little out of practice when it came to these sorts of gestures.

"Back again?" The man asked.

Harry stared at him in confusion for a moment before the pieces clicked, and he had to fight to keep any kind of guilty expression off his face. Clearly the man had seen him sneaking out yesterday morning. He hadn't been trying to be particularly stealthy at that point, but still. It was a good thing he hadn't actually been a prisoner. He had apparently made himself stupidly easy to track.

Riddle said nothing as he nodded at the gatekeeper, his expression one of feigned politeness, but the tightness at the corners of his eyes gave him away. Not a people person, apparently.

Regardless, the gatekeeper let them pass without another word, and Harry couldn't help but breath a small sigh of relief, for all that he hadn't actually done anything wrong. Riddle's posture relaxed beside him, and Harry took comfort in the fact that he wasn't the only one who'd been made uncomfortable by the scrutiny.

The passage through the wall was incredibly short, the mater of a few moments, and Harry had to fight the urge to scoff again. Riddle didn't bother.

"It's almost insulting," he said.

Harry grinned. Tom would certainly have thought so.

His eyes slid to Riddle once again, considering. Still nothing concrete. Nothing more than suspicions he wasn't yet willing to act on.

"Useless, yes," Harry said. "But flattering too. I mean, they were afraid enough to feel like they had to build it in the first place. And I imagine that resources are hard to spare in a town as small as this. Besides, the only reason they don't know exactly how useless the wall is is because Tom left no survivors to inform them of just how woefully insufficient their defenses were.

Harry thought he saw a flash of something in Riddle's eyes, but it had vanished almost as soon as Harry had seen it. Still, Riddle inclined his head, a small smile on his lips.

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it, yes."

They walked until they reached the town square before drifting to a stop. The inn, Harry knew, was a street over. It was the only part of the town he was actually familiar with.

"The inn?" Harry asked. "I can get my hands on some parchment and start asking around about the Weasleys, and I'm sure they can point us in the right direction for supplies and a courier. Unless you're familiar with the town?"

Riddle shook his head. "Not familiar, no. I've only been here once before, and it wasn't a long visit. I never went anywhere other than the inn."

"Inn it is, then," Harry replied.

Given that Riverdale was a small town, no more than four hundred people at most, the fact that they had an inn at all was unusual. The building was old, Harry noted, but, like the wall, the business itself seemed fairly new. The result of dragon tourism, no doubt, as odd as that phrase sounded. Still, Harry was grateful. At least this way there was a chance for news.

The inn was tiny. No more than a handful of rooms, Harry knew, and while there was a reception area and a bar with a tabled crammed in next to it, the entire thing looked cramped and rushed.

Harry made his way to the bar, Riddle close to his side.

"Barkeep?" Harry asked, getting the attention of the man nodding off in a chair in the corner. "A beer, please, for me and my friend."

Riddle cast him a look, one that communicated clearly exactly what he thought of drinking a beer from this establishment. Harry had to fight not to roll his eyes. Of course Riddle wouldn't want to lower himself by drinking the house brew. He seemed the sort of man who drank only the finest wines.

Harry simply glared at him. He wanted information, and talking to the barkeeper was the easiest way to get it. If they were going to find the sorcerer after this, he'd best get used to drinking questionable drinks in questionable places.

The look must have done the trick, for while Riddle glared mutinously at the drink when it arrived, he did take a sip and even managed to mostly keep the disgust off his face.

Harry took a sip and tried not to choke. It had been a long time since he'd had anything alcoholic, and this beer was a poor reintroduction. Still, Harry relished the way it burned down its throat, as disgusting as it was. It reminded him of before, and for a moment he ached for Ron and Hermione, who had always been sitting beside him in moments like this.

His eyes drifted to beside him, and saw Riddle making a face into his mug. He smiled, unable to help himself. He wasn't alone. Riddle was here, and Tom was close. And he would see Ron and Hermione again soon.

Turning to the barkeeper again, Harry lowered his drink and gave him the kind of smile that encouraged conversation. He only hoped he wasn't too out of practice.

"You boys aren't from around here," the elderly barkeeper commented.

Harry could feel Riddle bristling next to him at the irreverent address, and had no qualms about jamming his elbow into Riddle's ribs, since he didn't want to break eye contact with the bartender just yet. Riddle let out a small hiss of displeasure, and Harry was certain he was being glared at, but he didn't bother to turn and look.

"No, we're not," Harry said. "Visitors, from out of town. I heard there was a dragon around these parts. Even went over to see it last night."

That did the trick, as Harry was sure it would have. The barkeeper's attention was fixed unwaveringly on him.

"You saw the dragon?" he asked, not even attempting to hide his interest.

"No," Harry said, heaving an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. "No, I didn't. I walked all the way to the tower, and from the looks of things I was only a few hours too late."

"What do you mean by that?" the barkeeper demanded.

Harry placed his beer down on the counter and gave the barkeeper the appearance of his full attention.

"The dragon was gone, as was whatever he was guarding. All I found was the remains of a magical binding collar and a gaping hole in one of the courtyards. Both the dragon and the man he was guarding were _gone_. Escaped, from the looks of things."

"How do you know that the dragon didn't just eat whoever was up there?" the barkeeper asked.

"The skeletons," Riddle answered. "The person he was guarding was a seventeen year old boy, about as tall as my companion here."

Harry turned to shoot Riddle a glance and saw that the man was hiding a smile. He allowed one corner of his mouth to twitch up at Harry's look, but kept his mask otherwise intact.

"All the skeletons I came across didn't fit those parameters. Only one or two were in the correct age range, and all of those were the incorrect height entirely. Harry Potter was not a victim of the dragon who guarded him."

Harry was fairly certain there weren't any bones. He recalled Hagrid saying something about dragons eating them.

"Harry Potter?" the barkeep asked. "His name was Harry Potter?"

"Yes," Riddle said. "You didn't know?"

The barkeeper shook his head. "No one ever came back. We had no way of knowing _anything_. We don't even know the dragon's name. Just a rough description."

"I'm actually very interested in the dragon that was bewitched to guard that tower," Harry said. "There's a dragon expert I know of. He's even spent time among them, talked to them personally, from what I've heard. Charlie Weasley?"

"Don't know a Charlie Weasley," the barkeep said after a long moment of contemplation, and Harry felt himself wilting.

A longshot. Finding anything out at the inn was a longshot. There was still the tavern here, and even then, finding nothing was no reason to get discouraged. They were still a ways away from Ottery St. Catchpole, and as such probably far from any information about the Weasleys.

"Know a couple of merchants by the name of Weasley, though," the barkeeper continued.

Hope swelled in Harry's heart, nearly choking him.

"Red hair?" he asked. "Twins?"

The barkeeper nodded. "Can't quite remember their names though. Gred and Forge, maybe?"

"Fred and George!" Harry crowed, hands shaking in his excitement.

"Yeah, that's it," the barkeeper said. "New merchants of a bunch of magical products. Got caravans all over the place, but I think they live over in Frostmouthwith one of their brothers."

"Frostmouth is only a week's journey on foot," Riddle said, eyes glowing with excitement.

"They'll know how to get in touch with Charlie," Harry said, barely able to keep him excitement contained at the thought of finally seeing at least a part of his family. "And wherever he is, it's going to be much easier to have him come to us than the reverse."

"To Frostmouth it is, then" Riddle said with a smile. "But first, you need supplies."

The barkeeper directed them to a local tailor and gave them the names of some farmers who might have some crops to spare as well as directions to where Harry could send a message by courier.

Before they could leave, though, the barkeeper called after them.

"Do you know the name of the dragon? For the stories, mind you?"

"Voldemort," Harry called out, as he made his way out of the door. "His name was Voldemort."

The door closed behind him before he could see the look of terror on the man's face.

* * *

Harry and Riddle fell into a routine after that. The villages and towns were for the most part only a few miles apart, meaning it was fairly easy to travel through three or four in a day now that they were closer to the coast and more populated areas. Harry would wake in the morning to a new gift from Tom, something quite obviously incredibly valuable yet always useful and uniquely suited to Harry's needs and tastes, touching him deeply every time.

In the three days since he'd escaped from the tower, he'd received a new belt made of butter-soft leather complete with belt tags and knife sheath, an enchanted knife the day after, and a pair of dragonhide boots perfect for walking over all kinds of terrain. He'd nearly balked at the dragonhide boots, but they _had_ been a gift from Tom. Riddle had explained that the material to make them had most likely come from a rival dragon who had encroached on Tom's territory, and that the gift was clearly meant to show Tom's strength and ability to defend what belonged to him.

"It isn't as if I need any further proof of that," Harry had nearly snapped at the man, but he had put the boots on. And he had to admit that they felt wonderful.

In every town they passed through, Harry would stop for a moment to pass on some of his story in the hopes that it would make it's way to the people who needed to hear it. When night fell, at Harry's insistence and over Riddle's objections, they'd spend the night in a nearby village or town. Most of them were too small for any kind of inn, but Harry had frequently been able to trade his own story and a bit of magical help with odds and ends for lodging for the both of them.

The town they'd found that evening was large enough to be more of a small city, and Harry was excited. There was sure to be an inn, which meant no more sharing his space with strangers. The only thing that had allowed him to fall asleep easily any of the other nights was the knowledge that Tom was watching over him and wouldn't let him come to harm. And there was at least a chance, for the first time in the their journey, that there might be an accessible branch of Harry's bank. He could, perhaps, start balancing the books between himself and Riddle.

Not with money. Not after the last few days, when Harry had truly come to think of the two of them as friend, what with all the time they'd spent trading stories and discussing whatever crossed their minds. But he was certain there were a few tomes in his family vault that the other man would find interesting enough not to refuse.

Perhaps there would be a bookstore or some sort of magical shop for them to peruse. Or with a city this size, maybe even a clue to the man they were both searching for. A sorcerer as powerful as this one undoubtedly was couldn't exist as a ghost. There would be tales somewhere. It was just a matter of being in the right place to hear them.

But first, they would need to secure lodgings for the night.

Harry asked a passerby and was directed towards one of the main thoroughfares of the city, all while Tom loomed in the background, making a careful study of their surroundings.

"Notice anything interesting?" Harry asked as they made their way towards the in in question.

"A few shops it might benefit us both to browse through. In a city as small as this I doubt very much they'll have any items of any actual use in the magic shops, but they might have the sort of news we're looking for, and coin always makes people eager to talk."

Harry nodded. "I'll talk to the servants in the inn."

At Riddle's look, he elaborated.

"Nobody ever pays servants nearly as much mind as they should," Harry said, speaking with certainty drawn from his own experience in his aunt and uncle's home. "People treat them like they're invisible, but that also means they see and hear more than nearly anyone else."

"A fair point," Riddle said contemplatively as they arrived at the inn.

Nothing impressive, but still better than what they'd had in Riverdale, and miles above anything they'd had since. A chance for some fresh food and private room, perhaps even a bath.

"I'll go reserve us some rooms while you talk to the help, and then we'll go browse those shops."

Harry nodded his agreement, but before Riddle could go he reached out and stopped him. He would have mentioned it sooner, but he frequently forgot Riddle had enough wealth to spare that he needed to be explicit about things that never would have been an issue with anyone else.

"Would you be alright with sharing a room?" Harry asked him, trying to ignore the heat in his face. "It's just…after what happened, I'd feel better having someone there. I know Tom is watching, but…"

He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence without embarrassing himself. The truth of the matter was that he wanted company, and if he couldn't have his dragon then Riddle was the next best thing.

Riddle's eyes were soft when they met Harry's own.

"One room," he agreed.

Harry uncurled his hand from the fabric of Riddle's shirt and gave the man a grateful smile. Riddle returned it easily as he opened the door of the inn, holding it for Harry.

The noise swelled when the door was opened, and when Harry's eyes had adjusted after he stepped into the entryway, he could make out a tavern of sorts as well as a set of stairs and a desk. The tavern was fairly crowed, numerous patrons at the tables, staff flitting in between them, filling glasses and leaving trays.

Harry inclined his head in the direction of the tavern, and Riddle nodded as he made his own way to the desk where the innkeeper waited, eyeing both Harry and Riddle with obvious greed.

Harry struck up a conversation with the young man behind the bar, only a few years older than he was. He asked the barkeeper as innocuously as possible about the sorts of news he was interested in hearing. The man unfortunately didn't have anything to tell him, but another patron at the bar overheard and seemed to have something to share.

Harry fell into conversation with the man, trying to discover if he might have anything of interest to tell, offering his own story in bits and pieces, trying to coax something useful out of him.

Just when he felt he might be making some progress, the man before him blanched and Harry felt someone looming behind him.

Harry turned and froze. Riddle was standing at his shoulder, and had now come to stand beside both Harry and the man he was conversing with, barely repressed violence practically oozing off him and an expression on his face that arrested Harry's attention completely.

Harry stared at Tom Riddle and felt the last piece fall into place. The expression on Riddle's face was an incredibly familiar one. Harry had seen it more than a dozen times before, all the times Tom had seen a knight coming towards the tower. It was an expression that promised violence on those who tried to take what Tom felt belonged to him. Specifically, if Tom got his way, it meant that the person in question would be eaten.

Harry stared at the subject of the stare, rewinding the conversation and trying to put Tom's look into a context that made sense. The man had simply been making conversation, for all that he'd been standing a little closer than Harry thought was typical and had been staring at him intently…

Oh.

Well, then.

Harry had never been good at picking up what was going on in these sorts of situations. The entire idea of anyone being interested in him was just so foreign that it never really occurred to him until someone else pointed it out.

Or, as it turned out, threatened to murder someone else in a fit of possessive rage.

There was no doubt in Harry's mind who was beside him any longer. As he stared at the unfamiliar handsome features of his beloved friend, red eyes flashed, putting the final nail in the coffin.

Harry reached out and wrapped his hand around Tom's bicep even as he took a step closer to the disguised dragon. This served the dual purpose of trying to appease and restrain Tom as well as doing his best to politely communicate to the man who had apparently been making overtures at Harry for the last five minutes that he really wasn't interested.

"Hey," Harry said gently, in a tone of voice he hoped was soothing. The times Tom had lost his temper in the tower had been few and far between, so it wasn't anything he'd really had the time or chance to perfect.

Tom's eyes, brown once more, darted down and met Harry's, and while his entire expression softened in a way that made Harry's chest feel uncomfortably tight, the fire burning in his eyes only seemed to grow brighter. He didn't try and shake off Harry's grasp, but rather shifted himself so that he was even more firmly between Harry and the man who'd been making conversation with him.

"Nothing happened," Harry said, tightening his grip. "Nothing was _going_ to happen," he told him.

"I'm not that sort of bloke," the man affirmed, eyeing Tom warily. "Though you might have mentioned that you already had someone."

Harry opened his mouth to reflexively deny that fact before freezing.

Riddle was Tom.

Riddle, who had been insisting for days now, with growing frustration, that he was being courted. That being courted was the only possible interpretation of the situation. Tom, who had given him increasingly elaborate gifts as the days went on, each of them as useful as they were ornate. Riddle, who had told him how courtship worked, to some extent, who had excused the _dragon's_ absence by stating that it was required of him, and offered his own explanations in return. Riddle, who had told him of his history, of draconic custom, of how it was clear that Tom was in love with him and that no other explanation was possible.

 _Riddle_ was _Tom_.

And now that it was obvious that the words were straight from the horse's mouth, it was clear that Harry would actually have to think about them and what they meant for him.

Still, for all that Harry hadn't quite thought through the implications yet, Tom very clearly qualified as _someone_ in this context by any set of standards Harry could think of.

So instead of offering a denial that no longer would have been honest, Harry simply pressed his forehead against Tom's shoulder, hiding his face against the smooth fabric of his shirt, too overwhelmed to do anything else.

"He never notices he needs to," Tom said, and Harry could feel the tension easing from his body somewhat, pressed up against him as he was.

The man opened his mouth, and from the look on his face Harry could tell that whatever he had to say was likely to set Tom off again.

"I want to leave," he said, and while his voice was muffled by Tom's shoulder, he knew enough of his companion's abilities to know that he would have no trouble being heard.

Tom turned around, dismissing the stranger completely in favor of Harry. Harry allowed himself a small sense of satisfaction at being deemed so significant by someone who was so very powerful and considered himself above almost any form of interaction. Brown eyes studied him with concern that was so touchingly familiar Harry was appalled that he'd let the color of them keep him from recognizing it before now.

"You were the one who insisted we come in in the first place," Tom reminded him, though his tone was gentle.

"I know," Harry replied. "But I just…I need some air."

And that was nothing but the truth. He knew Riddle and Tom were one in the same now, yes, but he hadn't had time to really process what that meant. The room was starting to feel too close and cramped and full of people. Harry needed the stars and fresh air and the warmth of Tom close to him to even begin sorting all this out.

His near panic at his sudden claustrophobia must have shown of his face, because Tom simply gave him a deep nod before grabbing the hand that had previously been wrapped around Tom's bicep and pulling Harry along behind him, cutting through the crowed bar with the ease only an arrogant, intimidating person could.

Harry was content to let himself be lead. Tom would know what he needed, and after so long together it wasn't a matter of trusting Tom to take care of him. They had passed that point long ago. The trust went deep enough that leaving his care in Tom's hands was simply a matter of habit.

Tom proved himself more than worthy of that trust when he somehow managed to give Harry exactly what he needed. Instead of stopping directly outside the tavern, as someone else might have, he lead Harry to the edge of town and beyond. Not so far that the lights of the town had vanished, but far enough that the sky opened up before them.

Harry gave a sigh of relief, letting go of tension he wasn't quite ready to admit he had been carrying.

"Better?" Tom asked, voice laced with barely repressed concern.

"Yeah," Harry told him, smiling warmly at him. "Sorry, it was just all…too much all of a sudden."

"That's completely understandable," Tom replied. "You spent a little over a year completely isolated with no company other than a dragon. It will take you time to get used to being around people again."

"I never really liked being around people much in the first place," Harry confessed, staring up at the stars, inching slowly closer to Tom as he did so. "Groups of people I know, of my friends and family, yes. Large crowds of strangers? Only very rarely."

"Then why have we been subjecting ourselves to this night after night?" Tom asked, exasperation evident in his voice. "You know where my preferences lie, and it seems as if your own are more in line with them than I had originally supposed."

"Because for all that I don't really like crowds, I have missed them," Harry confessed. "I needed to remind myself, to _keep_ reminding myself that I wasn't trapped in that tower anymore."

"You do not do well in captivity," Tom said, and there was something almost wistful in his voice.

Harry turned to face him, studying his expression. This was his dragon. A possessive, territorial dragon who cared for Harry enough to…enough to court him. And while Harry didn't know the specifics of what _exactly_ that entailed, he knew enough of Tom to be sure that his friend must have considered other options.

"No," Harry said firmly, knowing he needed to be clear on this point. "No, I really don't. It was killing me."

The expression on Tom's face was one that Harry didn't quite understand, for all that it made his heart ache.

It was this that prompted him to speak.

"Still, for Tom…for Tom I would have tried," Harry said softly.

There was beat of silence, Tom's expression unreadable for all that his eyes were unbearably soft.

"He cares too much and knows you too well to ever ask it of you," Tom answered at last.

Overwhelmed, Harry reached out and wrapped his arms around the man before him, pulling him close and taking comfort in the familiar presence, for all that the shape was new.

Riddle stiffened.

"What are you doing?" he asked at length.

Harry could tell him the truth. That he had figured things out and was thanking Tom for what he had done, was taking comfort in his presence. Was using this contact to anchor himself in the whirl of confusion, for all that Tom was the source.

Still, then he would need to speak, would need to answer the question Tom was trying so hard to ask, and Harry wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

Another truth, then.

"I'm lonely," Harry told him frankly. "I'm lonely and homesick and overwhelmed, and normally I'd just curl up with my dragon, but he isn't here right now. It's also stupidly cold out . So…" he said, and simply tightened his arms

Tom stared at him intently, but after a beat that lasted long enough to make Harry nervous, he relaxed and wrapped his arms around Harry tightly, returning the embrace.

Harry leaned into the warmth and sighed, reveling the feeling of security being near Tom gave him. He would deal with his revelation later. For now, he would simply let himself be held.


	4. Chapter 4

**A very belated chapter for all of you! Sorry for not getting this up sooner, but NaNo happened and I haven't had time to give this even a cursory look since then. Still, I didn't think it was fair to keep you all waiting too much longer, so I gave this a very quick read-through and now here it is!**

 **I think there's only one chapter and the epilogue left, but I've been thinking that for awhile so I don't want to make myself too much of liar. Nano's going to take up most of my focus this month, and then we have holidays right after, so I wouldn't count on anything new until January, though I will try.**

 **Thank you all so, so much for all the wonderful comments, and every other form of encouragement you've left. Feel free to stop my tumblr to ask any question or just to say hi!**

* * *

Harry woke the morning of their fifth day of traveling to the gift of a jeweled livery collar, the same dragon motif from his brooch holding the Potter coat of arms **.** The thoughtfulness of it once again nearly brought tears to his eyes. The first place his gaze went was to Tom, sitting beside him.

For the first time, Harry noticed that his traveling companion had been observing his reaction with desperate interest. Thinking back over the past few days, he had always found Riddle's eyes on him as soon as he turned to look. Tom had been watching him, making a careful study of Harry's reaction to his gifts.

"It's perfect," Harry told him, trying to make it sound as if he was making the observation to a bystander instead of to the gift giver himself. "They're always perfect. Stupidly expensive and beautiful and something I would never in a million years buy for myself, but they're all so damn _useful_ and thoughtful that I just…" he trailed off.

Tom was pleased, but clearly trying to hide it. Harry was appalled at himself that even a day ago it would have worked.

"Why?" Harry asked, unable to help himself.

Tom's eyes snapped to him at once, the dragon in human form staring at him fixedly.

"Why what?" Tom asked, and while Harry was still having trouble reading Tom's expressions on this unfamiliar human face, he looked hopeful. Or perhaps trepidatious. Harry wasn't sure which.

There were lots of whys Harry wanted the answer to. Why Tom hadn't told him who he was. Why Tom had disguised himself as a human. Why Tom was doing all of this in the first place.

"Why is he giving me gifts?" Harry asked.

Tom looked frustrated and affronted, and Harry had to scramble to clarify himself.

"Not in that sense," Harry said. "I know. According to you, gift giving is the first part of courtship. I mean, why? Why is gift giving a part of draconic courting?"

Tom settled, and his expression turned to one of contemplation.

"I would say that the rationale is intended to be twofold," Tom said. He paused, and made a careful study of Harry, a small smile tugging at his lips and satisfaction shining in his eyes. "Though I can think of three reasons easily."

"Go on then," Harry said, settling himself in his bedroll, running his fingers over his newest gift even as he stared at Tom. "Impress me with your hypotheses of the reasoning behind draconic cultural custom."

"Having lived with a dragon for the better part of thirteen months, I am sure you are aware of exactly how possessive they can be."

Harry couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped him. An understatement. Such an understatement. After the first few weeks, Tom had been unreasonable whenever Harry was out of his sight.

"As such, giving up treasure is a great sacrifice for a dragon," Tom continued. "Doing so for another person is a way for the dragon to show clearly that they value the person being given the gifts far more than the treasure itself. Which, for a dragon is a definitive statement of worth."

That much was true. It was part of the common collective knowledge anyone had about dragons. That had been one of the first things Charlie had ever shared with Harry about draconic behavior, and had even shown him a scar to prove why even looking at a dragon hoard without permission was a bad idea. And now that Harry thought about it, he'd seen the way Tom had looked at the shiny bits he'd collected. But as Tom had never really minded Harry mucking around in his hoard or using pieces of it when necessary, it hadn't really occurred to him before.

"So, the treasure is a way for the dragon to say how much they value whoever they're courting," Harry said.

Tom nodded, though something about his expression suggested that he wasn't perfectly content with the phrasing, for all he seemingly couldn't find anything technically wrong with it.

"That makes sense," Harry said, and he couldn't help but enjoy the situation, for all that the particulars hadn't quite sunk in yet. Sitting here, discussing things with Tom, was such a familiar feeling. He'd always loved these discussions. "So, what are the other reasons? Dragons are fairly sophisticated, and I imagine their mating rituals are a little more…nuanced than that."

"A fair supposition," Tom said, "and one that holds out. But you have to remember that dragons, as a species, are more deeply and directly in touch with magic than any other creature. The mating rituals are largely dictated by this connection. The consequences for going against them, even shortcuts…" Tom's gaze turned somewhat haunted. "It's not worth the risk," Tom said staring at him intently. "No matter your Tom's usual feelings about following convention, these would be guidelines he wouldn't be willing to break."

Harry met those brown eyes, noting how serious he looked, the sense of severity that Tom was trying to impart with his words. He _needed_ Harry to understand this.

Tom had told him earlier that the reason his _dragon_ wasn't around was because of the rules of courtship. That his _dragon_ wasn't allowed to approach until Harry had formally accepted the courtship.

Harry smiled at him. "Which is why, you think, he isn't here."

Tom's shoulders lost some of their tension, though his eyes lost none of their intensity. "Precisely."

Harry filed the remark about consequences away for later. That wasn't a question he felt comfortable asking under the circumstances. He'd find out when Tom knew that Harry was talking to him, and not to Riddle.

"Still, I'm sure the magic itself much have some basis for the way the courtship works? And the specifics can't be entirely dictated. You were just telling me your theories," Harry said, trying to get the conversation back on track so he could mull over this new information.

Tom looked at him intently before he smiled, tensions and seriousness leaving entirely. "I was, it's true. Are you aware of the role treasure plays in draconic society?"

The phrase draconic society struck Harry as odd.

"I thought dragons were territorial, solitary," Harry said, leaning closer to Tom. "What do you mean by draconic society?"

"Dragons are, by and large solitary," Tom answered. "And _incredibly_ territorial, it's true.

"But they can, on occasion, put aside their differences long enough to deal with one another at least temporarily. There are certain magical holidays where they can feel compelled to meet, and certain spaces where there is a magically enforced truce between them."

Harry supposed that made some sort of sense. How else would they have developed the stories that Tom had told him, if they didn't form a society in at least the loosest sense?

"The way dragons establish dominance and worth is by and large through their treasure. Those with the largest hoards are clearly the most accomplished, and are therefore deferred to by the rest."

"Treasure in short, is a status symbol for dragons."

That made perfect sense, actually.

"So it's a sort of 'look at how accomplished I am, look at all this treasure I have'."

Tom nodded, before continuing his explanation. "The overall message is more 'Look what I have, and look what I am willing to give up for you'."

"That's oddly sweet, in a weird way," Harry said, letting his hands run across the various gifts, returning finally to brooch that had started it all.

"Humans give gifts as part of courting, don't they?" Tom asked.

Harry nodded, even as he fought a smile. Slip up, there. Tom had been much more careful than that over the last few days. He had clearly gotten so interested in the topic that he had forgotten to watch his tongue as carefully as he should have. Talking about humans as if he wasn't one.

"Yeah, they can. They do," Harry replied.

"What are the motivations for gift giving under those circumstances?" Tom asked.

Harry had never really given it much thought, but he did now.

"I think some of it is the same, yeah," Harry said, examining the notion critically. "Part of it is about expressing access to wealth. Look what I can afford to buy you, that sort of thing. But the other part, the more important part, as far as I'm concerned, is about showing how well you know the person you're giving the gifts to. For me, it's always about making the person I'm giving the gift to as happy as possible."

And from that perspective, Tom had been hitting the nail on the head in terms of gift giving. Tom clearly thought the same, given the incredibly pleased expression on his face.

"You said that you'd thought of a third reason? For dragons, I mean," Harry said, trying to distract himself from his own observations of how attractive Tom looked in this moment.

How had he gone about choosing his human form, anyway? Had he just decided to make himself as handsome as possible? It was ridiculous and distracting.

"Yes," Tom said, studying Harry, a look of deep satisfaction crossing his features. "Seeing the recipient garbed in things _they_ had picked. Using and trusting tools _they_ selected. That would, I think appeal to the possessive side, provide a primal sort of satisfaction."

Tom stared directly at Harry, and his eyes flashed red for the briefest of moments, that satisfaction clearly visible in his gaze.

Harry looked away to hide the burning in his cheeks and to try and keep his breathing under control. It wasn't fair. It really wasn't fair, the things Tom did to him. That same overwhelming presence that had always made Harry feel safe was almost intoxicating now.

God, how had it taken Harry this long to realize who he was? He should have known it the moment the man approached him. He needed to focus on something else.

"So, the gifts are the first phase of courtship?" Harry asked.

He might as well use this opportunity to understand exactly what he might be getting himself into.

Tom tilted his head in a considering manner. "In a way. The gifts are more a declaration of the intent to court, though they do continue throughout the courtship process. The courtship doesn't begin in earnest until the party being courted gives permission. Still, that doesn't mean that some of the foundational steps can't be taken while the person being courted deliberates. Only that certain steps can only be taken _after_ consent has been given."

Harry took deep breath. God, if this wasn't even the proper start of it, what would courtship in earnest look like? Then the rest of what Tom had said sunk in and Harry had to fight the urge to laugh. Sneaky lizard. If there were any steps that could possibly be taken while Harry was still mulling things over, Harry was certain Tom was taking them.

"Courtship is all a lead in to mating, correct?" Harry asked, thinking things through aloud. "That's the whole purpose?"

Tom inclined his head, his eyes barely concealing deep emotions Harry couldn't allow himself to contemplate in this moment.

"The process of courtship lays the foundation for the magical bond that forms between mated pairs," Tom responded slowly, picking his words with care. "If that foundation isn't strong, the bond itself can end up flawed. Any strain on an improper bond will cause it to break, killing those parties involved. This is _especially_ important in cross-species bonds."

There was a pain and anger in his face during the imparting of this information that made Harry believe there was far more to it for Tom than just a warning not to take shortcuts.

Harry recalled that the first day they had met like this, Tom had told him that both his parents had died. Was this perhaps what had caused their deaths?

Reaching out to Tom in this moment couldn't be justified without revealing that he had made the connection between the man in front of him and the dragon who had guarded him. That was something Harry wasn't quite prepared to do yet. Still, he couldn't do _nothing_ when Tom was so clearly in pain, especially if what Harry suspected was true.

Tom was sitting close enough that all it took was a subtle shifting of Harry's weight, as if he was simply fidgeting, to bring him closer. After that he allowed himself to lean against Tom, not too much, but enough that they were touching. Harry allowed himself to lean as much against Tom as he could vaguely justify by being accidental. Firm enough that it was worth noticing, but not so much that it would demand Tom seek answers.

Suspicions. All Tom would have were suspicions. It would serve the bastard right after the four days of confusion Harry had been put through.

Tom stiffened as soon as Harry came into contact with him, just as he had done the night before when Harry had first embraced him. However, when it became clear Harry would take it no further, he slowly relaxed against him.

"It's the dragon magic, isn't it?" Harry asked. "The bond between two dragons doesn't have to be grounded as much because they're both used to handling it, their magic can interact and counterbalance each other with relative ease, I would think. For humans, especially non-magical humans, that's not the case."

Tom nodded. "That would be my supposition as well."

This was the perfect opportunity to ask about mating. About what it actually meant for the parties involved, what was expected of them, what the effects of the bond were. All important questions Harry would need to know the answers to before he made his decision.

Harry felt his shoulders tensing as he tried to fortify himself to ask those next questions. He needed to know, after all. But he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to ask them. Not yet.

He needed time to adjust, time to absorb. Tomorrow. He would ask those questions tomorrow. For now, he needed to change the subject to something safer.

"Will you keep an eye out while I meditate?" Harry asked.

He did need it. He hadn't meditated since he'd left the castle. Meditating left Harry exposed and vulnerable, and he hadn't trusted Riddle enough to leave himself exposed like that. Tom was a completely different story.

Tom's eyebrows arched.

"Certainly. Is there anything specific you need from me during this process?"

"I'm exposed and unaware during this process," Harry told him. "I just need someone I trust to make sure nothing happens to me while I do it."

"You haven't meditated since your escape?" Tom asked, and Harry could tell that he was just barely keeping his anger under control. "That is _incredibly_ dangerous, Harry, especially for someone of your strength."

This wasn't anger, though. Not really. This was Tom, concerned for Harry, angry at the thought of what might have happened.

"I haven't been anywhere I felt safe enough," Harry answered simply. "I take that a lot more seriously than I used to."

Tom let out a long exhale through his nose, and part of Harry was surprised that he couldn't see smoke pouring out of his nostrils. When he inhaled and met Harry's gaze again, his anger gone leaving only the concern.

"What's changed, then?" Tom asked him.

"I trust you," Harry said simply as he straightened his spine and positioned himself properly. "You won't let anything happen to me."

"I won't," Tom said, eyes glowing red again for a brief moment. "Your trust is not misplaced, Harry."

"I know," Harry said with a small smile before closing his eyes.

Taking several deep breaths, Harry focused his attention inward slowly. When his mind was clear, when Harry felt himself purely in the moment, he reached for his magical core, trying to determine the state of his magic.

What he saw made him cringe. It was a mess. The aftereffects of magic exhaustion were obvious, and since Harry hadn't had the time to deal with them in any sort of capacity, neither through mediation nor by taking the appropriate potions. Still, the damage wasn't anywhere as bad as it should have been after five days of neglect.

Tom's gifts, Harry realized as he set about fixing the remaining damage. Tom's magic had been working to shore up his own. Harry hadn't made a careful inspection of the belt tags when he'd first received them as a gift. A look at the jewel-adorned ornaments had been more than enough to have him overwhelmed. If they hadn't been a gift, Harry would have refused to wear them. Only his affection for Tom had persuaded him to accept the lavish present. It was gorgeous and beautiful and _completely_ impractical, and Harry had had to fight a smile every time he looked down at the emeralds that matched his eyes and the rubies that matched Tom's.

Focused as he was now, it was clear that the gems themselves were not just for decorative purposes, but had in fact been imbued with Tom's magic. Not enchanted to do anything, but serving as a magical reservoir that Harry could call upon whenever he needed.

That magic had been bolstering Harry's drastically depleted reserves. If it hadn't been for Tom's magic, Harry wouldn't have been capable of doing much of _anything_ the past few days.

Harry reached out for his magical core, encouraged by what he found. Focusing on his core, with every breath he took he brought the energy from his core slowly more and more outwards until it filled him entirely. Taking some strength from the gems around his waist, and using Tom's magic to give himself the boost he needed to fix the mess that his magic had become.

He moved through his body, focusing on correcting the depletion and damages he found slowly, one by one. It was a slow process, one made worse by the fact that things had been left stagnant for so long.

The process had one unexpected benefit. The close magical attention he was paying allowed him to notice the very beginnings of a connection starting to form.

He couldn't tell where the connection lead from his magical senses, but the lack of sensation from the other end was confirmation of who was at the other end. Tom was blocking his magical signature somehow, shielding it from all around him, including Harry.

Connection was a strong word. It was barely there – the ghost of something that had yet to be established.

The discovery of it sent emotions coursing through him, and in this exposed state Harry didn't have the luxury of denial. The idea of being connected to Tom, intimately and magically, for the rest of his life, gave him nothing but joy.

Saving that revelation for further contemplation, exhausted as he was after the meticulous detailed work he had just done, Harry slowly brought his focus back to the world around him.

Harry blinked his eyes open slowly, awareness of his body and the world around him slowly coming back. He winced, both from the harshness of the sunlight and from the soreness he was becoming aware of in his muscles. Muscles that were too sore, given how long meditation normally took. And now that his eyes had adjusted to the brightness of the day once again, he could see that the sun was directly overhead.

"How long was I under?" Harry asked, incredulously, staring up at it even as he began slowly moving his limbs, wincing as the feeling began to reassert itself in the form of pins and needles.

"Just under four hours," a familiar voice all but growled from behind him.

Harry turned slowly, ignoring the protesting of his back as he did so. Tom was seated beside him. To the untrained eye, he might have looked relaxed, but Harry knew better. Tom was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. He had no weapons, but Harry knew he didn't need them. Tom himself was more than weapon enough. There was a subtle tension in his shoulders and around his eyes that spoke of an anxiety and distress Harry found surprising.

Though it really shouldn't have been. The longest Harry had meditated before today had been two hours, and that had been while guided by Tom after a particularly stressful, exhausting lesson.

"Your timing is impeccable," Tom said, shortly. "I promised myself I would wait until noon before doing anything rash. You came out with an entire quarter of an hour to spare," he all but growled.

"I'm sorry to have worried you," Harry said honestly, reaching out and placing a reassuring hand on Tom's shoulder. "It wasn't my intention, and if I'd known it was going to take that long, I would have done the work in smaller segments or waited until we were somewhere better fortified."

Tom reached out and placed a hand over Harry's own before closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Harry could feel the tension slowly easing out of the muscles beneath his hand as Tom gathered his control around himself like a cloak.

"What exactly did you do to yourself that require that much meditating to put to rights?" Tom asked, his voice an artificial calm that brooked no argument.

"I broke the enchantment keeping us in the castle," Harry replied. "Tom and I, I mean," he hastened to clarify, at the suspicious glint in Tom's eye.

This only seemed to make it stronger, but for all Tom eyed him searchingly, he apparently decided to turn his attention on other things, at least for the moment.

"That's one story you haven't told me," Tom said simply. "And considering the past four hours, it's one I'm very eager to hear."

Harry sighed. Tom deserved to know how they had both escaped, and Harry found himself wondering about his own appearance in Riverdale in the aftermath. Perhaps Tom could shed some light there. Regardless, after the four hours of worrying Tom had no doubt had to endure, the least Harry could do was explain how he'd gotten himself into the situation.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and began his recounting of their last day in the tower.

* * *

Harry woke suddenly to the familiar sound of his dragon's growl.

"What is it?" Harry asked, less groggy than the first time Tom had woken him that day, but still not completely there yet.

"Another knight," Tom said, red eyes gleaming viciously in the darkness created by his wing.

Harry sighed. And he'd been having such a nice nap. He tried to focus on the annoyance rather than the worry he could feel building in his gut. Tom could handle himself. Tom had handled himself many times before. Harry still couldn't help but worry.

The fact that even Tom winning ended in death, and that Harry was at least partially responsible didn't help anything. Tom really didn't have much of a choice with the enchantment. Though in the interest of not deceiving himself, it wasn't as if Tom would have chosen to otherwise if given the opportunity. He was a dragon. People weren't really intelligent beings to him.

Besides, after several days spent wracked with guilt after the third time Tom had killed someone, the dragon had sat Harry down before explaining in his usual no-nonsense, incredibly infuriating and condescending way that if Harry blamed himself, he was an idiot.

"I'm the one killing them, after all."

"You don't have a choice, though."

"You and I both know that I'd gladly do it anyway. Humans," Tom sniffed disdainfully, "aren't worth anything. They are a scourge I enjoy eradicating."

"Which makes me what?" Harry asked, torn between being amused and being appalled.

"My little pest," Tom said, his tone fond enough to turn Harry's cheeks red.

"So, you are unwilling to blame me," Tom said, "which is incredibly stupid of you, my treasure, but I'll not complain. But it makes no sense to hold yourself responsible. Blame me. Blame the knights who have _chosen_ to try and steal from a dragon. Blame the man who trapped us both here in the first place. But blaming yourself, my tender-hearted fool, is the one reaction that makes no sense."

Harry had needed to hear the speech several more times, but it had eventually sunk in. He'd gone with the blame-the-sorcerer route. It seemed the most appropriate, and what was one other sin on top of all the rest Harry held him responsible for.

Harry was also slowly coming around to the idea that most of these knights were complete morons. He'd seen their armor in the aftermath. And it wasn't as if Tom was flying around eating people. He wasn't a blight on a town. These people were looking for sport, looking for a payoff.

Harry didn't think they deserved death. Far from it. It was just that he wasn't going to waste too much time feeling guilty about it. Still, he kept a tally. He would pay the man who had locked them both up back for every single one eventually.

Harry's only remaining concern was that one day, one of the knights would be his friends. He knew that they were looking for him. He had no doubt that soon after he'd gone missing, Ron and Hermione, at the very least had poured all their resources into finding him.

He'd confessed this to Tom one day, during one of their early fights about Tom's...eating habits. They'd found a compromise.

"How many?" he asked, sitting up.

"Just one," Tom told him, eyes slightly narrowed and head tilted to one side.

Tom lifted his wing, letting the sunlight in fully, and Harry winced as the harsh midday sun pierced through his skull, hand flying up instinctually to block his eyes.

"Gah" he whimpered. "Too bright."

"It's darker in the tower," Tom informed him, tetchy. "For once, you'll be comfortable while you're torn between fretting and being bored out of your skull."

"You know the rule," Harry told him, slowly removing his hand from his face.

"The rule is tedious and pointless," Tom said.

Under other circumstances, Harry might have thought of him as grumpy, for all that he would never say it aloud. But Tom, when he felt Harry was threatened, was always much more angry than anything else. "Grumpy" was not a strong enough for word for what Tom probably was at the point. As much fun at Harry usually had irritating Tom, now was not the time.

"The rule is there to keep you from killing my friends and pissing me off," Harry said. "If they died trying to get to me...it would destroy me."

Another huff of air, and Tom closed and then opened his eyes in what could have passed as particularly long blink, but Harry was well versed in all the minute ways Tom's emotions manifested on his face. He'd had to be, in order to actually get by in the beginning. This expression meant that Harry was once again winning the argument.

"Magical surveillance only," Tom snapped at him. "And you can do it from inside your tower."

Harry rolled his eyes, but held back the sarcastic quip. Tom needed to be handled carefully in these moments.

"Fine. But you're sticking around until I'm done."

Tom grumbled unhappily, but said nothing in response.

Harry stretched before clambering his way from his perch in the crook of Tom's leg up onto his back with the ease of long practice.

"Are you carrying me or am I walking?" Harry asked.

Tom just shot him a dark look, and Harry had to bite back a grin. It had been a fairly stupid question. Thus far, Harry had only used the stairs in his tower when he was actively trying to escape.

Harry walked his way up Tom's spine before perching comfortably on his head. This was his personally preferred method of getting to and from his room in the tower. Much better than being dragged around like a petulant kitten.

Tom held his snout to Harry's window and Harry stepped down off his head and across his muzzle before climbing his way through his window.

Harry looked around his familiar prison, searching. It would have been easier at the beginning, when the room was essentially empty. Now the limited space was starting to fill with all the trophies Tom kept bringing back after encounters like this. At least he pretended to respect Harry's sensibilities, and so cleaned the blood off of anything he brought back before putting it in his personal storage space.

Harry supposed that a breastplate from one of the pieces of armor could be used in a pinch, but he'd much rather find the mirror he'd specifically enchanted for this sort of thing.

"Where the hell..." Harry muttered to himself, digging though the various pieces of armor and the jeweled swords and the different pieces Tom had combined to make items of his own design. He finally found what he was looking for under a helm.

"Aha!" he crowed victoriously.

Harry pulled out his scrying mirror, being careful not to scratch the surface. The thing was already banged up enough as it was.

He sat on his bed, holding angling the mirror so that both he and Tom could see the image that would form on its surface.

Concentrating hard, Harry reached out his magic the way Tom had taught him to, channeling it until an image formed on the surface.

Harry let out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding when it finished. Disappointment weighed heavily on his chest.

"It's not them," Harry told Tom, trying to keep his sadness out of his voice.

He didn't mean to get his hopes up every time, but he couldn't quite help himself.

"Oh, little pest," Tom said softly. "I know you keep hoping. Why do hurt yourself like this?"

"They are coming," Harry said firmly. "I know they are."

"I don't doubt that," Tom told him. "Anyone who knew you would want you back. But it's been a year now. If they could find you, I think they would have."

"I know," Harry said, closing his eyes and letting himself fall backwards onto his bed. "I know. This rutting _enchantment_ ," Harry spat out the last word, "must be blocking locating spells. If they could have found me by now, they would have. So, I need to break it. Which we already knew. Or free your magic enough that you can do it. Which involves weakening it. So, we're back to square one, which is me messing with the magic that has us both stuck here."

"Yes," Tom said. "That does sum it up rather nicely. Hopefully my continued instruction will only make your task easier. But before we can return to that, I have a knight to deal with."

Harry cracked an eye open and looked at Tom. The expression on his face was incredibly familiar. It meant that someone was going to get eaten.

"Have fun playing with your food," Harry told him.

Tom bared all his teeth in response.

"Oh, I will."

Harry turned his attention back to the canopy of his bed as he heard the loud scuffling followed by the whooshing noise of Tom taking flight. Off to torment the knight mercilessly, and enjoy himself immensely, Harry was sure. There wasn't much to break up the monotony of the day, cooped up as they both were. Still, Harry was pretty sure that Tom would have had the exact same reaction even without the boredom forced on them both.

Well, if Tom wasn't going to be bored, than neither was Harry. He sat up, placing his bare feet on the floor and trying not to flinch at how cold the flagstones were. There wasn't really anything he could do about it. True, he could warm them magically, but given that the entire castle was made of stone, that heat would dissipate very quickly. It would just be wasting magic. And while his captor had seen fit to bestow him with a wardrobe of decent pants, shirts, and underclothes, he hadn't deemed him worthy of stockings or boots. Another deterrent against escape, perhaps, though one that seemed incredibly redundant in the face of all the others.

Normally it didn't matter. Harry spent most of his time lounging on the very warm scales of a fire-breathing creature or in bed. It was only rarely now that he actually ventured inside the castle. Most of the doorways were too small for Tom to get through.

Still, it meant when he did take to wandering, his feet were cold, and there wasn't really anything he could do about it. He gave himself a moment to get adjusted to the floor temperature before hopping to his feet.

Harry was sick of this enchantment. And since he had nothing better to do, he might as well work on breaking it.

Originally Harry had concentrated all his attention on Tom's collar. Not a bad approach, considering that it was what held Tom bound, and Harry had the chance to study it most of the day. But the enchantment wasn't centered around Tom, as Harry had originally assumed. His own attempts to escape had been what had shed light on that. On the few occasions he'd been able evade Tom and make it to the boundaries of the enchantment, it hadn't been distance from Tom that kept him bound, but rather his distance from the castle.

The castle, then, Harry had eventually come to realize, was the center of the enchantment. Yes, it was possible that Tom still could be, but having the castle as a secondary focus just didn't make any sense in that context. Tom's directive was to guard Harry. Having the castle as the center made much more sense in light of what the enchantment forced Tom to do.

Messing with Tom's collar had always been Harry's priority when it came to escape. Freeing Tom's magic would allow them both to be free, Harry was sure. And it was much easier to work on, what with his teacher being practically in his face the entire time he attempted it.

Still, now that he was on his own without Tom looking over his shoulder, there was no reason not to try and obstruct the enchantment on the castle itself. He'd done some exploring, it was true, but he was usually busy spending time with Tom learning magical basics or just talking. As such, he was much more familiar with the grounds than the building itself. He spent very little of his time actually in the castle since those first hellish weeks.

The center of the castle seemed the logical place to start for an enchantment centered on the castle, and so Harry carefully made his way down the stairs, before navigating the twisting passageways over to the most central location in the castle. He only got turned around twice, which was quite a feat considering that he so rarely spent time inside. There was a large, open courtyard in the center, and it was here that Harry had begun his magical examination as soon as the idea had occurred to him.

The courtyard was incredibly large, it was true. Large enough that Harry would have contemplated asking Tom to stay here instead of the central, cobblestoned courtyard where the dragon had decided to make his home. Still, Harry was a bit wary of doing so. This courtyard was smaller than the central courtyard and filled with greenery. There was a garden, and in another corer a place where only magical plants grew. It had all been overrun and weed-filled when Harry had arrived, but back before Tom had made it his mission to have Harry in sight at all times, he'd spent time using the skills the Dursleys had forced him to hone getting things back into working order.

It had been some time since Harry was last here. Things were starting to overgrow again, but Harry found he liked the effect. The plants were still healthy, but had an undeniably wild air to them. Nothing liked the regimented neatness Aunt Petunia had insisted on. Harry found this much more to his tastes.

It was the way the magical plants had seemed to thrive that first made him suspicious. Magical plants were hardy, it was true, and could be grown in entirely normal gardens. But these plants were not just two or three times the size they would have been if planted elsewhere, as magical plants in a magical environment would be, but were instead growing to sizes Harry never would have imagined possible.

The only explanation Harry could think of for their growth was proximity to magic stronger than anything Harry had encountered in his day-to-day life. Magic like the kind that was keeping him and Tom bound here. If the enchantment was anchored somewhere in the courtyard, then the growth of the plants could easily be explained.

It was only a matter of figuring out _where_ exactly the enchantment was anchored, and what it was anchored to.

Harry had been concentrating his efforts with Tom on sensing magic, when he was given the opportunity to choose what instruction he wanted to receive. He wasn't so stupid as to refuse to learn anything a dragon might want to teach him. Still, there were days Tom let him have his pick, and on those days, he learned to better train his awareness of the magic around him.

Harry had always been able to vaguely sense the magic in his surroundings, had always sensed something when a spell had been cast. He simply needed to sharpen that skill.

After several months of Tom's tutelage, and practicing on his own, he thought he was finally ready to begin his search in earnest.

He'd worked his way through the courtyard in sections, and had at least confirmed to himself that it was here somewhere. Now it was just a matter of figuring out where the damn thing was. The magic it was putting off was so powerful that Harry was suffering from a sort of blindness. His senses were overwhelmed.

Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply, falling into a light meditative trance as he reached out with his sense and felt for the magic around him. He let himself become acclimated, let his eyes adjust, as it were. He simply sat there and breathed for long moments before beginning to reach out with his senses.

The magic was still incredibly strong, but for the first time it wasn't overwhelmingly so. He could actually get a sense for the ebb and flow of things. It certainly helped that the enchantment was currently lit up like a town during a festival.

Because it was active, Harry realized with a start. Not that the enchantment was ever inactive, per se, but at this precise moment it was enforcing one of the conditions that it was designed for, and thus much more active than it would have been at any other time. Because Tom was off hunting the knight, fulfilling his magical directive to protect Harry, Harry was able to see nuances that had escaped him before. He followed the nearly blinding golden flow of the magic back to where it all seemed to be coming from and soon found himself standing in the middle of the courtyard.

Harry stood there, puzzled. An enchantment like this _had_ to be anchored to something physical. He could feel that. The building itself would have made sense, but the magic seemed to be coming from something very specific, rather than the stone of the building itself. It was true that some was coming from the stones, but those were leeching off a central source. Some sort of wardstone would make the most sense.

But there was nothing. Harry was standing in the middle of a bunch of flowers. And while they were beautiful and full of life, they couldn't be the anchor for this sort of spell. There was just no way they could hold that massive amount of energy.

Staring down at the flowers, puzzled, Harry saw something that soon had him flat on his stomach in the dirt, staring in fascination to be sure his eyes hadn't been playing trick on him in his desperation.

Up. The magic was rising up.

Giving a small cry of jubilation, Harry leapt to his feet and sprinted back into the castle proper. The crypt. It had to be in the crypt. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. It made perfect sense for something like this, so powerful, magically speaking, to be rooted in the foundation. That way it would seep into the essence of the building itself, from the ground up.

He quickly checked the position of the sun in the sky and his own internal clock just before he hurtled inside. Tom never spent less than an hour playing with the knights, but it was rarely more than three. And Harry would want to be back in his tower before Tom came back. If Tom came back and Harry was not only not in his tower underground, somewhere Tom couldn't get to him...Harry shuddered at the thought.

Still, he had plenty of time, if he could trust his own sense of it. Meditating enough to get to the correct point had eaten up some of it, as had the wrong turns he'd take earlier, but he still had at least three quarters of an hour. More than enough to start making a study of thing. And if he went back to Tom with enough information, the two of them could begin working out how to properly break the enchantment together. Harry would have to do almost all of the actual magic, since he was the only one who could physically reach the thing, but that really wasn't that different from what he'd expected. It was only a slightly different justification for the problem he'd already been expecting to have.

He'd never tried to reach the crypt before, but the principal seemed fairly straightforward. He was on the ground floor, so he just had to try and go down.

After a few minutes of searching, he found a set of stairs that lead to a lower level. Taking a deep breath, Harry began his descent.

The narrow stairwell soon deposited him on a floor that wasn't made of smooth flagstones like all the rest, but instead rough stone. Magically smoothed, Harry was sure. Mechanical means would not have done nearly so good a job. The room opened up before him, ceilings high, the room itself dark and cavernous.

And there, in the middle of it all, glowing softly even without his magical sight, was a sword.

Rooted into the stone, magic passed from the sword into the castle itself and upwards from the jewel embedded in the hilt to everything else. Harry took cautious steps forward, part of him concerned that the sword itself would be warded, but he found no resistance.

As he grew closer, rage began to build in his stomach. The sword looked familiar. If that accursed sorcerer had used _his own sword_ to keep him trapped here…

But he was mistaken, Harry realized with great relief. The sword was not his own, merely very similar. Goblin made, then. It would explain why it had been able to anchor such an intricate enchantment as this.

Harry began circling around the sword, studying it intently. The sword itself was what rooted everything to the grounds of the castle, he was sure. What kept him from escaping the perimeter, no mater how hard he tried, and what kept Tom on a slightly longer leash. So if it was the magically forged steel that bound them to the land, then what purpose was the jewel serving?

A visual examination provided a partial answer - the jewel was identical to those that adorned Tom's collar. Harry reached out with his magic and confirmed his suspicion. This jewel was anchored to Tom specifically. And, he realized with dawning horror, not just sealing Tom's magic, as they both suspected, but _taking_ it, using that magic to keep the enchantment fueled.

Harry felt as if he might be ill. This was a violation. It was despicable, and he would not allow it to stand for even another moment.

Harry focused all of his magic on the stone before him. He pushed and pulled, trying to snap the connection this stone had to those on Tom's collar. When that didn't work, he did the only other think he could think to do. Reaching out instinctively, he pushed at the stone with all his might and magic, focusing everything he had and everything he was on physically crushing the thing. Harry could feel himself getting weaker as he poured out his magic, but it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the stone.

Just as Harry was about to admit defeat, to come back again to try another day, he reached out and physically touched the stone, giving one last push.

As he pressed his hands inward, it shattered under his hands. For a long moment, Harry's vision grey, there was complete stillness. Then everything was bright, the enchantment broken, the magical energy snapping back.

Harry sank to the floor, exhausted, blackness creeping in at the edges of his vision even as the room filled with a bright white light. The last thing he heard before he lost his tenuous grasp on consciousness was a roar of victory. He felt himself smile, even as the darkness claimed him.

They were free.


	5. Chapter 5

**At long last, I present the next and final chapter of More Precious than Rubies! Thank you all so much for your wonderful comments and your enthusiasm for this story. It has been a treat to write, and I'm sorry for making you all wait so long. Thank you to everyone over on tumblr who helped give me the final push I needed to finish.**

 **While this may be the last official chapter of the fic, there is still the epilogue left, and I definitely plan to write more in this universe. So while it may be done, things are by no means over.**

 **I hope you have enjoyed reading this fic as much as I have enjoyed writing it.**

* * *

As soon as Harry had finished his recollections of the last day in the tower, Tom leapt to his feet and began to pace, walking back and forth in front of Harry in an agitated manner. From the set of his shoulders and the cast of his face, Harry could tell that the man was far from pleased. Had he been a dragon, his tail would have been thrashing.

Tom suddenly came to a stop, rounding on Harry. His glare was fierce enough that Harry felt himself shrinking back. Not in fear. At least not in the traditional sense. He wasn't afraid that Tom would hurt him.

"You _idiot"_ Tom snarled at him, eyes shining red. "You _reckless moron_."

Harry found himself glaring up at Tom at this comment. "I got us both out."

"Almost at the cost of your _life"_ Tom snarled.

Harry surged to his feet, unwilling to sit there and be yelled at. Especially when Tom's anger was unjustified. He met his friend's glare with one of his own.

"It _needed_ to be done," Harry said through clenched teeth. "It needed to be done, and I was the only one who could do it! What was I supposed to do, just let us both rot there for the rest of our lives?"

He was shouting by the end, but he didn't care. The damn thing had been using Tom's magic to keep them both trapped. Even thinking about it now had bile rising in the back of his throat and anger coursing through him like fire. He couldn't have allowed it to stand. Not for one minute longer.

"It could have waited!" Tom shouted back. "It had been over a year at that point! What difference would another half-hour have made?"

Harry stared up at him, watching the way Tom's red eyes flashed with anger. But not just anger, Harry realized. Fear. More fear than Harry had ever seen Tom exhibit in either form. Fear not for himself, but fear for Harry.

Harry felt his heart clench in his chest. He couldn't allow Tom's distress to continue without doing anything about it. Especially as he was the cause of the distress in question. Ignoring the dryness in his mouth that resulted when Tom's eyes, still red, met his own, Harry took a deep breath, focusing on calming himself. Reckless words now would only cause more hurt.

After the night before Harry didn't think it would be too forward of him to comfort Tom. He reached out and wrapped his arms around the agitated man before him. Offering comfort this time, instead of taking it.

This time Tom did not hesitate to wrap his arms around him in turn, all but crushing Harry to his chest. His grip was so tight it was almost painful, as if he expected that Harry would simply disappear if he loosened his hold at all. Pressed up against his dear friend, Harry could hear just how fast his heart was beating.

He allowed Tom to hold him without comment until he heard his friend's heart slow. The beat beneath his ear was now a much more familiar rhythm, one he associated with darkness and safety. Harry looked up at his friend and found brown eyes swirling with anger, concern, and fear stare back at him. Harry was glad he hadn't simply snapped back at his friend, was grateful he'd been able to see the signs before saying something too hurtful. Time to regroup and reassure had done them both good, he was certain. And Tom might be more receptive to what Harry had to say if he said it while he was in Tom's arms.

"I couldn't leave it like that," Harry said at last. "Not once I understood what was happening. I couldn't just _do nothing._ Not when the sarding enchantment was using _Tom's own magic_ to keep us trapped. That kind of _violation_ …I couldn't just walk away. I _couldn't._ "

Harry struggled to find the words to express what exactly he had felt in that moment when he had finally understood the exact function of the sword. Even just _remembering_ what'd been done was enough to turn his stomach. The idea of doing nothing under such circumstances was unthinkable.

Harry turned his face away from Tom's, knowing that seeing the emotions on his friend's face would do nothing to help settle the feelings racing through him. His fixed his gaze firmly on the fabric of Tom's tunic.

Tom's fingers wrapped around his chin with care before gently but inextricably pulling his face up. There was a furrow in Tom's brow, and when Harry met his gaze again those brown eyes were still awash with emotion. Still, a softness had returned to his expression. One that was somewhat at odds with the resolute set to his jaw.

"You should have waited," Tom said seriously. "A few moments more would have made no difference in the grand scheme of things. Your life is too precious to risk so carelessly."

Harry clenched his jaw, but it was clear that Tom wasn't done speaking yet.

"It was rash, and impulsive and _reckless_ ," Tom said, hints of red beginning to bleed into his eyes. Tom took several deep breaths before letting out a long sigh. "Still, anything else would be completely out of character for you. You are far too eager to risk yourself for the sake of others."

"If I can help, I'm going to," Harry said simply. "Especially for those I care for." After years of being helpless himself, he was unable to do anything else.

For those he held dear, Harry didn't think there was anything he would not do.

"I cannot ask you not to be yourself," Tom said, "but more caution in your heroics surely would not go amiss. There are many who would miss you if you were gone.

"And your Tom," the dragon said, staring at him intently, "why, I think your Tom would burn the world if he were to lose you."

A shiver ran down Harry's spine at those words. Tom's human face had seemed almost placid, but Harry knew enough of the person beside him to know that Tom had been entirely serious. If anything ever happened to him, Tom would not hesitate to take vengeance on the rest of the world.

The only thing Harry was unsure of was his own reaction. He couldn't tell if the shivers had been from fear or something else.

"I'd best be careful then, hadn't I?"

Harry had meant the words to be playful. To try and lighten the conversation that had turned serious in ways Harry found himself unwilling to face directly. But instead his voice was low and tremulous, only adding to the atmosphere.

Tom raised his hand and cupped Harry's face, eyes fixed on Harry's own with frightening intensity. His thumb ran along Harry's cheekbone with almost unbearable tenderness.

"That would be wise, yes."

Tom's words were heavy, the softness of his voice somehow only serving to lend them more weight.

Harry swallowed, throat dry. Tom's skin was soft where it pressed against his own, the warmth of his hand seeming to seep from Tom's skin into Harry's soul.

The feeling terrified him.

It exhilarated him more.

* * *

Their walk for the next few hours was a quiet one. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence by any means. Rather, it was the companionable quietude of two people completely comfortable in each other's company. That same closeness from before still hung between them, the silence somehow only lending it more strength.

Still, the silence, as pleasant as it was, left Harry with only his own thoughts, something he had been avoiding since the entire affair had started.

The problem was that Harry didn't know what he wanted. Until he knew what he wanted, he and Tom would just keep going round in these circles that did nothing but frustrate them both.

Tom had made what he wanted obvious. He wanted Harry.

What did Harry want? He could say no. He knew that much. He could refuse Tom, deny him the right to continue his courtship, and his friend would respect his decision. He would leave, and no doubt never bother Harry again if that was what Harry wished.

The mere thought of being without Tom was painful enough that Harry found himself wrapping his cloak tightly around himself with one hand, the other clutching his broach for reassurance. His emotions that night when Tom had first approached him as Tom Riddle were fresh enough that Harry didn't have to imagine what it would feel like to be left behind. Harry didn't think he could bear being separated from his dragon.

So, he wanted Tom in his life. That much was clear. But he'd known that before, on some level. He'd been willing to try and give up everything else in his life to keep Tom in it.

Frowning, finger running along the brooch in what was beginning to become a habit, Harry stared at the man walking beside him, trying to make his feelings make sense.

The human guise Tom was wearing was attractive. It had been one of the first thing's Harry had noticed at Riddle's introduction. The fact that it was Tom—Tom his friend, Tom who guarded him, who taught him, who looked at him so softly, Tom who called Harry his treasure and his pest—that it was Tom underneath the appearance that had affected him so only seemed to make things worse.

The thought of those lips pressed against his own, those long-fingered hands against his skin, of red eyes in an aristocratic face starting down at him with that same emotion that had so terrified him mere hours before was enough to bring blood racing to his face. He brought a knuckle to his mouth and wedged it firmly between his teeth to try and keep his blood from rushing anywhere else.

What then was the problem? What was holding him back? What was keeping him from saying yes?

The sounds of shuffling feet and murmured conversation from further up the road brought him sharply out of his thoughts. Harry once again regretted the loss of his sword with a sharp pang as his hand slid to the knife at his belt. It wasn't as if he was undefended; between Harry's magic, Tom's gifts, and the dragon himself, Harry doubted there was a safer place to be in the entire country.

Harry's eyes slid to his companion, tilting his head in a silent question once he caught his friend's eyes. Tom's senses were much more refined than his own, and he had no doubt that the dragon had heard them coming long before Harry had any idea they were there at all. If they were any kind of threat, Tom would know.

Tom was stiff beside him, his jaw clenched, but his brow was still smooth. It was an expression Harry was familiar with after all these days on the road. This was not a Tom worried about a threat, merely a Tom who was reluctant to share Harry's company.

When Tom noticed Harry's eyes on him, he gave a small shake of his head, confirming that the travelers approaching them were not dangerous. He heaved a heavy sigh when he caught sight of the expression on Harry's face, and Harry simply gave him an unrepentant grin in return. It was late enough in the afternoon that it was time to eat, and if the group approaching them had yet to dine Harry intended to share his meal with them, regardless of Tom's feelings on the subject.

"Must we?" Tom asked, exasperated.

"Conversations like this are part of how we find who we're looking for," Harry replied, lines familiar after all the discussions they'd had in the same vein while they'd been traveling.

Tom was much better about information gathering in cities or even larger towns, places where it was clear the dragon thought there was at least a chance of learning information. These roadside conversations he obviously saw as a waste of time. Still, he tolerated them at Harry's insistence, for all that he was far from graceful about it.

Tom was indeed scowling, and Harry couldn't help but snort imaging how the petulant expression would translate onto his friend's true form. The idea of the fearsome dragon Voldemort pouting was too humorous for him to remain dispassionate.

Harry purposefully leaned closer, brushing his side against Tom's in an attempt to distract his friend from his foul humor.

"You don't even have to be nice," Harry told him. "You're dressed well enough that being prickly and unpleasant wouldn't be too much of a stretch. Just don't bite anyone's head off, and we'll be in and out as quickly as possible."

"No promises," Tom muttered, but Harry could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was in a much better mood than he had been a moment before.

Harry remained close to placate his friend. The warmth of Tom's closeness and the occasional brush of their arms together was a distraction, but if it kept Tom from snapping during the meal, then it was worth it.

They rounded a curve in the road and were finally given a view of the group Harry hoped to share a meal with. Raising his hand to get there attention and calling out a greeting, Harry studied the company before them. A group of three men, all of them on foot rather than horseback. The size of their packs made it clear they were traveling, not merely taking a short trip. Their clothes sturdy and well-worn, and each of them had a weapon of some sort.

Adventurers. Perfect.

For all that Harry was certain they could be dangerous when they wanted to, they were nowhere near a match for Tom and him. Still, it seemed they were feeling as friendly as Harry himself was. One of their party returned Harry's greeting with enthusiasm, one with something more restrained and appropriate, while the third studied them suspiciously.

When the two groups were finally close enough to converse easily, Harry extended his invitation after several minutes of idle chatter.

"Would you join us for our midday meal?" Harry asked the group as whole. "My friend and I have been without news for nearly a year now, and are eager to hear of any goings-on you may know of."

The group agreed after only a moment's hesitation, and they all moved just off the path before taking out supplies. Tom began removing provisions from the bag at his side, handing Harry a variety of items as was his custom before pulling out jerky for himself.

Harry frowned at it in concern. He hoped that Tom was taking time to hunt after he had fallen asleep. The jerky alone wouldn't be enough to sustain him. His only conciliation was that they ate well enough at dinner, from animals Tom hunted for them. He always refused to let Harry participate in those hunts vehemently enough that Harry had given up on trying to help. No doubt attempting to hunt while Tom was also hunting grated on his friend's instincts. Still, even the deer Tom managed to hunt with surprising frequency couldn't possibly be enough. In the tower, he'd seen his friend devour two or three animals of the same size without slowing down.

Noting his scrutiny, Tom arched his eyebrows in a silent demand that Harry share exactly what it was that had captured his attention so. Harry merely shook his head. That wasn't a conversation for now. It was a conversation to be had after Tom knew Harry was speaking to his draconic friend, rather than his human traveling companion. Instead he turned his attention back to the three people before them, who had retrieved their own food and were beginning to eat.

Introductions were exchanged, and Harry learned that his companions were called Seamus, Dean, and Colin. It was Colin who had offered the overly enthusiastic greeting, while Seamus was the one who had initially been suspicious and was clearly still wary.

Harry introduced himself by his first name only. He wanted to spread the story of his captivity to let his friends know he was still alive, but he didn't want anyone to know he was the one the stories were about. While it was true doing so would allow his friends to track his movements, it would also pave a path for whoever had imprisoned him in the first place.

Besides, people tended to change their tales after hearing Harry's own. He didn't want exaggerations or people lying to try and please him. He just wanted information, and for his friends to hear news of his survival.

"So," Harry asked once they all had their meals in front of them, "what news do you have to share? I've been without information for more than a year."

"What were you up to for a year that kept you from getting even gossip?" Seamus asked, eyeing Harry.

Harry applied his elbow to Tom's ribs in anticipation of the low rumble of a growl that was only just beginning to build, as it always did when someone was rude to Harry. Practice had made his timing all but perfect, managing to cut Tom off before he'd truly begun.

"I was studying," Harry said simply, calling on his magic until he cupped a small ball of fire on his palm, displaying it for the group before them.

He watched their reactions, more than a little smug. Control of fire to the degree he'd just displayed was difficult. Tom had been beyond pleased when Harry had mastered it. Seamus and Dean were now looking at him with respect, while Colin's gaze was filled with a childish sort of awe.

It wasn't at all uncommon for those with magic to sequester themselves for months or even years at a time in order to try and hone their craft without distraction. A perfectly believable explanation for being out of touch. One that was even true, from a certain perspective. Harry had had over a year of exhaustive magical instruction from an expert, something many would kill for. Harry only wished that he and his instructor had had a choice in the matter, instead of making the best of a bad situation.

Colin was the source of most of the news, waxing poetic about a number of things. Some Harry and Tom had already heard on their travels, while others were new.

"Sorry about him," Dean apologized with a grin after a particularly enthusiastic retelling from Colin.

"I'm going to be a bard one day!" Colin said with enthusiasm. "That's why I'm traveling now. To learn all the stories. And to get practice telling them."

"It's why he was so excited to see you on the road," Seamus said, resigned. "Why he's so excited to see _anyone_ on the road. A new audience to hone his craft on, and new stories for him to tell. We've had to talk to _everyone_. It's been torture."

Tom shot Harry a knowing look and arched his brow. His look said a great deal. _See? Even someone as insignificant as that agrees with me. This is torture._

Harry just glared at him. Tom wanted to find the sorcerer as much as Harry did. Almost certainly more so. Conversations like this were, while at times painful, the best place to start. Honestly, with Colin's aspirations of being a bard, he was probably the best hope they'd had so far.

Tom remained impassive in the face of Harry's glare, turning his attention to their companions.

"Do you all know of any sorcerers of particular might?" Tom asked them. "Harry is looking to further his magical education, as he has progressed as far as he feels he can without additional guidance."

Clearly Tom was done waiting for things to come up naturally.

Seamus and Dean looked thoughtful, clearly considering the question carefully. Colin, on the other hand, looked excited, no doubt thrilled to have another story to pass along.

"How powerful a sorcerer?" Dean asked.

"I would say someone with enough power to enchant a dragon would be suitable," Tom said simply.

They all gaped at him. Harry reached one hand up and rubbed at the back of his neck. He still felt uncomfortable when Tom classed his strength as such. While it was useful in terms of trying to gather the information they needed, he felt it gave people an unrealistic sense of what he was actually capable of.

"Well, Merlin could, obviously," Dean said, once he had recovered from his shock, apparently deciding to take Tom at his word, for all that he kept darting looks in Harry's direction.

Tom's brow furrowed in thought, a considering look on his face.

"I hadn't considered Merlin," he said.

Harry gaped at him. "There's no way _Merlin_ …"

Tom cut him off before he could say anything that would expose the half-truth they were using to gather information.

"While it's true that Merlin doesn't normally take apprentices, he would at the very least know who had enough power to fulfill our requirements. Besides, he and I are acquainted."

Harry gaped at Tom.

"You're acquainted with _Merlin_?" he asked.

As Tom Riddle? As Voldemort? The former would have required Tom seeking the man out, but the latter was nearly impossible to imagine. Either way, how had that introduction even occurred? What on earth had those interactions looked like? The most frustrating part was that Harry couldn't even _ask_ most of his questions, both because they were not alone and Harry's pretended ignorance would not allow him to.

Tom smirked, no doubt enjoying the flabbergasted state Harry was in.

"I am," he said. "I think that is a story for another time, however," Tom said, a glance at their companions making it clear why he would not yet speak. "Do you have any other ideas?"

"Flammel," Seamus said, "though I think his specialty is more in alchemy than anything that would enchant a dragon, if that's your goal."

Harry had to fight not to gag at the idea of ever imprisoning anyone the way he and Tom had been. He opened his mouth to refute the idea, but Tom reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving just the barest shake of his head when their eyes met. Harry released his breath through his nose, taking comfort in Tom's touch. His friend was right. As…distasteful as Harry found the misunderstanding, it was one that would benefit them.

"I doubt Flammel is quite who we're looking for, it's true," Tom replied. "Thank you for the suggestions. I think perhaps Merlin may be the best avenue for further exploration. I'm rather irritated I didn't think of it sooner."

"I can't believe you know _Merlin_ of all people," Harry murmured, shoving against Tom's shoulder with his own as a form of punishment.

Still, the more Harry thought about it, the more sense it made. Dragons were known to be some of the most powerful and knowledgeable users of magic there were. And it wasn't unheard of for dragons to trade knowledge for a piece of treasure that was appealing enough, or to exchange one sort of knowledge for another. Tom loved to _know_ things, and he loved treasure. Harry was certain that Merlin would have had an offer tempting enough to entice his friend into sharing something. And Tom had been far too good a teacher in the tower for it to be his first time instructing someone.

Still, _Merlin_.

"He was interested in learning something I knew, and so I taught him." Tom said with a shrug, as if it were nothing worth commenting on. "We parted on amicable terms. Getting an audience should be no difficulty."

Harry simply shook his head, resolving to interrogate his friend further once there were no longer so many secrets between them.

"Well, thank you," Harry told the travelers across from them with a smile. "At least we have more of a plan than we had before." Harry focused on Colin specifically. "You want to be a bard, yes?"

Colin's nod was so enthusiastic Harry was surprised he wasn't dizzy afterwards.

"I have a story you may be interested in hearing, if it hasn't already made it's way to you," Harry offered.

Colin beamed, while Dean and Seamus rolled their eyes in a manner that spoke of long-suffering indulgence.

"Tell me, have you heard about Harry Potter?" Harry asked.

Colins eyes widened, while his companions groaned.

"What do you know about him?" Colin asked eagerly. "Who did you hear it from?"

"We've heard some whispers," Dean offered as an explanation, "but the stories we've heard are probably too fantastic to be true."

Seamus snorted, nodded.

"Well, I happened to hear the story from the man himself," Harry said.

Colin gaped at him, eyes sparkling with what looked like hero worship.

It made Harry uncomfortable. It was a look he'd seen once or twice before, after some of the scrapes he, Ron, and Hermione had gotten into, but it was one he never grew accustomed to. To have it directed at him now for merely relaying someone else's story, at least as far as Colin was concerned, was enough to be somewhat disturbing.

Still, he told his tale. Of his capture at the fire after sharing a meal with a stranger whose face he no longer remembered. Of waking up in the tower, disoriented and thinking himself alone. Of how he eventually wished it was true after discovering the massive dragon guarding him. The numerous escape attempts, the enchantment that kept him trapped. Of his study of magic, and how it eventually allowed him to break the enchantment and free himself. Of how the man was now traveling to his brother's home, in order to learn news of his family, before finding the man who had imprisoned him in the first place.

His friendship with Tom was conspicuously absent from the tale, something his companion had insisted upon. Harry didn't understand _why_ , but it was Tom's business, and if he didn't want his contributions included, then Harry would respect that, for all he didn't understand it.

"Do you know the name of the dragon?" Dean asked.

"Voldemort," Harry answered. His friend had never prevented him from sharing it before.

As one, the people in front of him blanched.

"That can't be true," Seamus said, shaking his head. "It just can't. Voldemort was killed over a year ago."

That Tom leaning forward, his eyes flashing red for the briefest moment before his friend managed to wrestle his glamor under control again. Still, the shade of brown he managed was noticeably closer to maroon than usual.

"Where did you get this information?" Tom asked.

Seamus gave a small flinch, clearly taken aback by Tom's tone. Dean answered while his friend struggled to recover.

"Everybody knows. And if it weren't true, then the beast would have been terrorizing everyone. It's been over a year with no sight of it. The only way that would have happened was if it was dead."

Harry blinked, trying to make sense of this unexpected information. Voldemort wasn't dead. The dragon was instead sitting right beside him. Tom wouldn't have lied about something like that. If he didn't want Harry to know his real name, he simply never would have answered when asked. So clearly whoever had captured Tom had told the world he was dead instead. The only question was if they had taken the credit or given it to someone else to try and distance themselves from the affair.

Still, Tom's absence as evidence of his demise was puzzling. Dragons tended to largely avoid human settlements if they could. Stealing cattle or valuables wasn't uncommon, but their reactions to the name and use of the word "terrorize" suggested it was probably more than that.

"What did Voldemort do?" Harry asked, glancing at his companion beside him.

Tom was stiff beside him, eyes fixed on Harry. His jaw was set, and the set of his shoulders made it clear this topic was one he found highly uncomfortable. That was unusual enough in and of itself, but it was the look of resignation in his eyes that had Harry most concerned. Tom was never resigned. Not to anything. He fought. Always. Giving up was entirely against his nature.

They told stories. Stories of towns razed by dragonfire, which would burn until there was no fuel left to consume or tamed by magic. Places where the support had been systematically and maliciously destroyed, before the villages themselves had been decimated. Curses placed upon powerful people that no one had been able to lift. Of people who journeyed to his cave and never came back.

When they finished, they stared at Harry, waiting on his reaction. Tom was watching him carefully as well, clearly bracing himself for something.

"Which towns?" Harry asked, after careful consideration.

All four of them looked at him with identical nonplussed expressions.

"What…" was all Dean eventually managed.

"Which towns did he raze?" Harry asked again. "I mean, dragons by and large can't be bothered with people. They don't think we're worth the time. I'm sure there are some aggressive dragons out there, and maybe Voldemort could be one of them. So how many towns did he raze? Where were they?"

"Just one," Tom said, breaking the shocked silence. "Little Hangleton."

Harry stared at him intently. "You're from Little Hangleton," Harry said, slowly.

"I was born just outside of town," Tom corrected, choosing his words with care.

"You told me you had trouble with some of the townsfolk when you were young," Harry said.

Tom inclined his head.

A baby dragon, alone in the world. Attacked by humans too afraid to try for compassion, seeing only something they didn't understand that needed to be feared. Those years, from what Harry had been able to gather from Tom, had been hell. Burning the town to the ground as soon as he was able didn't seem so unreasonable.

"And the villages that were destroyed?" Harry asked.

Tom reached into his bag and pulled out a map he'd acquired during their travels and pointing out each area where the crops had been destroyed, the cattle eaten, the buildings decimated, and villagers killed. Harry noted they were all fairly close to a mountain with a familiar name.

Harry pointed at it.

"This is where Voldemort's hoard is rumored to be, isn't it?"

"It is," Tom answered, before any of the others could.

Harry allowed himself a small smile. "That explains that, then."

"What do you mean, Harry?" Colin asked over the confused noises coming from Dean and Seamus.

"Dragons are territorial," Harry offered with a shrug, "If you look at the map, you'll notice they're all fairly close to the mountain. Or at least close enough that Voldemort would consider it part of his domain."

Everyone other than Tom gaped at him.

"It's not that surprising. I mean, as a general rule, I doubt dragons think humans are worth enough effort to even bother with. Like, you don't hunt down colonies of ants. You'll step on them if they're there, but it's not like you go _looking_ for them."

He didn't even bother explaining the curses. Everyone knew trying to take dragon treasure was a bad idea. What he'd learned over the past few days had only served to reinforce that idea even more.

"Voldemort wasn't killed," Harry told them, his own questions settled for now. "No doubt whoever told you that subdued him somehow. Cursed him to watch over Harry Potter."

"So Harry killed him when he escaped?" Colin asked eagerly.

" _No!"_ Harry shouted, feeling physically ill at the very idea. Tom's hand returned to his shoulder, reassuring him of his friends presence. Taking a deep breath, Harry wrestled his emotions under control. "No, he broke the enchantment and the dragon flew off."

"Why hasn't anyone seen him, then?" Seamus asked, clearly not believing a word.

"Dragons are vengeful creatures," Harry offered. "No doubt Voldemort is seeking out whoever it was who imprisoned him. Likely whoever it was who claimed to kill him in the first place."

"And when he's found them?" Colin asked, eyes shining. "What then?"

What then, indeed.

"What do you think, Tom?" Harry asked, staring directly into his friend's eyes, "once Voldemort's had his vengeance, is he going to go back to terrorizing humans the way he used to?"

He'd showed his hand in this last conversation. He knew that. Still, he wanted to know. What were Tom's plans?

"I think," Tom said slowly, eyes never breaking contact with Harry, "that Voldemort will be far too busy guarding his treasure to bother with terrorizing humans. He won't think them worth the effort. There are other pests that need his attention more."

* * *

"I really have lost track of time," Harry muttered quietly, staring at the town before them.

"Beltane," Tom said, staring at the prominent pile of wood in the middle of town square, just waiting to be set alight.

"I didn't think it was that late in the year, yet," Harry replied, staring at the fire.

There were superstitions about the Beltane fires, and they were all coming back to him now as he started at the waiting firewood. Beltane was about growth, about protection. But it was also about fertility. About relationships.

If you jumped through the Beltane fires, those relationships were blessed. Said to last forever.

There was only one person Harry could ever imagine jumping through those fires with. There was only one person Harry would ever _want_ to jump through those fires with.

It was time he finally admitted that to himself, and put them both out of their misery.

The timing was so perfect it could be nothing but providence. As soon as they had arrived, the fire was lit. Harry took a deep breath as the ambient magic in the air swelled with the flames.

Now that the fire was lit, if the celebration here was anything like the ones Harry had attended growing up, first the farmers would lead their cattle between the flames, blessing them for the year to come. Then the music would start. The music and the dancing.

Those couples who chose to could then jump over the fire together, during the dances.

Harry watched in silence as the cattle made their way through, feeling Tom's presence like a fire all down his side, aware of every inch of space between them. They watched in silence, the magic in the air building ever higher, and to Harry it felt as if each moment only pulled the tension between them tighter, to the point where every hair on his body seemed to stand on end.

And then the last animal was through, and everything was silent for a long beat, the only noise the crackling of the flames.

A lone fiddle broke the silence, the long warbling of the first note breaking through the air. It was soon joined by drums an other instruments, until the music filled the air. People filled the square, spinning in circles around the fire, dancing and laughing.

Harry took a deep breath and turned to face Tom. The firelight cast shadows on his face, the flames dancing in his eyes as he stared at Harry with a love so fierce it made Harry's breath catch in his chest.

Harry smiled at him.

"Come on, you infuriating, ridiculous, _impossible_ lizard," he said, heart feeling so full he couldn't believe it still fit in his chest, overwhelmed as he was by his love for his dragon. "Let's try a human mating ritual, for once."

And then Harry was off, sprinting towards the fire and throwing himself into dance with a laugh, the expression of disbelieving, nearly heartbreaking shock and hope on Tom's face as he'd left something he fixed into his memory at once, even as the growl only made him laugh harder and dance faster.

He caught sight of Tom now and again, making his way gracefully in and out of the crowd in pursuit of Harry, but the dance never let them get too close.

Until suddenly they were standing together in front of the Beltane fire, and while Harry knew on some level people were still dancing and the music was still playing, his entire world had become the dragon standing beside him. For what he was was undeniable, this night, in this moment, his eyes glowing red and familiar aura seeping through the air.

"Tom?" Harry called quietly, ensuring he had the dragon's attention. Harry held out his hand to him, a wide smile on his face.

"Yes," Harry said simply, hand outstretched.

"Yes?" Tom asked, his voice strangled with the strength of his emotions, a trembling hand reaching forward to take Harry's own.

"Yes," Harry confirmed, squeezing the hand tightly in his own.

The smile that broke over Tom's face took what little breath Harry had away, and his red eyes were shining with emotion. Harry felt his own eyes begin to burn, and knew that the fire wasn't to blame. Not entirely.

Taking an unsteady breath, he tilted his head towards the fire, a watery smile on his face.

Tom beamed and nodded, answering the unspoken question as he tightened his grip on Harry's hand.

They jumped through the flames together.

As soon as they landed, Harry found himself swept up in an unyielding, incredibly familiar embrace for all that he'd rarely experienced it in this form. He let himself melt into those arms, knowing he would never need to wonder if they would support him.

He felt more at home here than he ever had anywhere else.

Red eyes peered down at him, and he saw that same sentiment echoed back at him.

Harry wasn't sure if he leaned up or Tom leaned down or if it was some combination of the two, but the next thing he knew their lips were pressed together in a kiss.

Harry had been kissed before, but never like this. It was as if an ember from the fire they had just jumped over had come to life in his chest, only stoked higher every moment their lips were pressed together. He could feel the magic flowing between them every place they were connected, the ghost of a bond Harry had sensed before becoming more solid as the magic passed between them, thickening and strengthening from the ghost of nothing to a thin but undeniably present thread until it was something more substantial.

Not a bond. He could tell that much. Merely the foundation on which one could be built.

Tom's magic caressed him the same way his tongue did. As if were mapping him out, learning every nook and cranny of his soul. And he could feel his magic doing the same to Tom. Coupled with the physical sensation from Tom's mouth against his it was only the unyielding grip Tom had on him and his own hands grasping at Tom's shoulder and waist that kept him upright.

When it became too overwhelming, no matter how wonderful it felt, Harry forced himself to pull away. Tom allowed it, but only just, pressing his forehead against Harry's own and peering intently into his eyes. Close enough that their breaths still lingered together. He stared at Harry, red eyes shining with emotion that had a lump forming in Harry's throat.

"Come," Tom said at last, relinquishing his grip on Harry's waist only to capture his hand. "There's much to discuss, and this is not the place to discuss it."

Shoulders brushing the entire time, Tom navigated them away from the town and the light of the fire, leading Harry to the woods that bordered the town. Under other circumstances he might have objected, but Harry knew that Tom would more dangerous than anything they might find in the forest.

When they'd broken the tree line but were still close enough for the light of the bonfire to cast shadows, Tom guided him to a large tree with a sprawling system of roots. When Tom gestured for him to take a seat on one of the roots, Harry was struck by an impulse too strong to ignore.

Harry took his time examining their surroundings to be certain they were far from prying eyes. Satisfied that the trees were dense enough to provide cover for what he wanted, he turned his attention back to Tom. Tom was staring back at him, a small furrow between his familiar red eyes.

"Change back?" Harry asked him, his voice hoarse. "I mean, I gave you permission. For the courting. So I can see you now, right?"

Tom's brow smoothed at once and his eyes shone with familiar warmth. Anxious, Harry realized suddenly. He'd been afraid that after all of that, that even after saying yes, Harry might have changed his mind.

Tom's lip curled in a smirk, and Harry found himself suddenly apprehensive. That look really couldn't mean anything good.

"Of course," Tom said, reaching up with one hand and unfastening his cloak with a deft twist of his fingers before folding it carefully and setting it on one of the roots.

Harry eyes him warily, not trusting the mischievous glitter in his red eyes or the smirk that stayed on his face. Tom's hands went to the belt of his tunic, and that joined his cloak in the pile of items, eyes fixed on Harry's own the entire time. Harry's throat felt dry and he struggled to swallow. When Tom's fingers wrapped around the bottom of his tunic and started pulling it upward, Harry could feel blood rushing to his face.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen Tom without his tunic. He'd seen the man completely naked before, for all that he'd fought to keep his eyes from lingering. It was impossible to avoid such situations when they'd been sharing space for the past week. He'd done his best to give Tom as much privacy as he could.

This was completely different from the occasional glimpse he'd caught. This was Tom, his cherished friend, a man who _wanted_ him, a man Harry wanted, revealing himself slowly and purposefully while holding Harry's gaze.

Face burning, Harry dragged his gaze away from Tom's exposed torso to meet red eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, forcing his voice past the dryness in his throat.

"Exactly what you asked," Tom answered with a wicked smirk and heat in his eyes. "I can't very well transform with the clothes on, they'd be destroyed."

When the man toed off his boots, Harry spun around so that his back was to Tom, face blazing and breath coming in harsh pants. He closed his eyes, doing his best to ignore the rustling sounds behind him as he wrestled with the heat pooling through him. There was too much to discuss, too much that still needed to be settled to allow himself to become overwhelmed by his desire.

Harry felt Tom's magic suddenly swell behind him and he spun around.

A massive dragon stood before him, black scales giving off a dull shine with the reflected firelight. Huge red eyes stared straight at him, framed by impressive horns. A long serpentine neck was bent so that the enormous head was level with Harry's own. Even through the water forming in his eyes, he would recognize the dragon anywhere.

Harry threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around the face in front of him, avoiding the goring horn on Tom's nose with the ease of practice. His breath hitched as he felt those familiar smooth, warm scale beneath his palms and against his cheek.

"You're here," Harry heard himself say as tightened his arms as much as he could. "You're really here."

He'd known, of course. He'd known that Riddle had been Tom. But for all that his friend had been beside him, it hadn't stopped him from missing his dragon terribly.

"There's nowhere else I would be, little pest," a familiar voice growled as Tom nudged him gently with his nose. "I've been here the whole time."

Harry nodded against Tom's scales, fingers tracing over them almost reverently. "I know. I do. I just…it didn't seem real until now."

It was only as he spoke the words that Harry realized how true they were. Tension he hadn't been aware of carrying was gone now, leaving only an overwhelming feeling of certainty.

This had been the right choice. Seeing Tom as he had first come to know him, as he truly was, only served to cement it. He couldn't imagine his life without the dangerous black beast in it, couldn't imagine going through the day without his presence beside him, or the sarcastic commentary and intellectual discussions he'd become so used to and so fond of over the past week. Couldn't imagine anything but waking up to find those red eyes staring at him warmly. Couldn't imagine kissing anyone else.

He loved Tom. All of him.

Harry turned his head and pressed his lips against one of Tom's smooth, warm scales.

Tom let out a low rumble, the vibrations running through Harry's body as he stroked his fingers along Tom's scales, pressing his cheek against Tom's hide. Content. He was content. A deep sort of contentedness he'd never known before. A feeling that all was well, and from this moment on, always would be.

He was in love, and was loved in return. All the rest was details.

The deep happiness welling up within him demanded some sort of release. Harry turned his head and pressed his lips to Tom's scales once again, leaving them there.

There was another growl, followed by an enormous sense of magical pressure and a bright flash of light. When the light faded, Harry's lips were no longer pressed against scales, but the warm skin of Tom's cheek. Long fingered hands wove their way into his hair and a moment later his mouth had been claimed in a hungry kiss.

"It isn't fair," Tom whispered in a husky voice when he pulled back, red eyes shining brightly in the darkness, "for you to do that when I can't reciprocate."

"I'll keep that in mind in the future," Harry answered, unable to do anything but smile. He leaned forward and kissed him again.

He let his hands drift from Tom's hair to the breadth of his shoulders. The warm, bare skin under his palms was enough to break through the haze their kiss was creating to remind him that in the wake of his transformation, Tom was naked. Harry sucked in a breath in shock, and Tom took advantage of his surprise to deepen the kiss with a skill that left Harry's head fogged once again.

Harry turned his head, breaking the kiss and panting for air.

"Talk," he managed to force himself to say, trying as best he could to ignore the sensation of Tom's breath ghosting along his face. "We need to talk."

"We do," Tom agreed before pulling Harry into yet another kiss.

Gathering himself more quickly this time, Harry pushed against Tom's shoulders, doing his best to glare at his dragon. Judging by the smug smirk he got in response, he doubted it was particularly intimidating, but Harry wouldn't allow himself to be deterred.

"We can't do that if you keep kissing me like that," Harry said, fighting to keep his eyes from drifting downwards. "Or if you stay..." Harry gestured wordlessly at Tom's naked form.

Tom's answering smirk and the heated look he sent Harry sent shivers skittering down Harry's spine.

Taking a deep breath and mustering his control, Harry met Tom's red eyes with his most determined look. They had taken the next step, it was true, but there was still too much left unsaid between them that needed to be discussed.

Tom took in his expression before sighing. When Tom reached for his clothes, Harry turned around, facing empty woods around them as he waited for Tom to finish dressing.

"How long have you known?" Tom asked over the sounds of fabric sliding along skin.

"That you were you?" Harry asked, watching the shadows of the far away fire dance across the trees in front of him. "I had suspicions from almost the beginning, but I didn't know for sure until the inn."

Tom let out a low growl at the reminder of the incident. Harry let out a laugh, smiling into the darkness at the familiar sound.

"That was it exactly," Harry said. "Possessive lizard."

The muffled sound of footsteps against the forest floor was the only warning Harry had before strong arms wrapped around his waist. Tom's nose pressed against the side of Harry's neck, dragging it up the column of Harry's throat before coming to rest behind his ear.

"And I why shouldn't I be?" he growled, one hand wrapped firmly around Harry's waist, the other coming up to wrap around the medallion of the livery collar that hung against his chest. "You're wearing _my_ gifts. Bearing _my_ emblem. You're _mine,_ Harry. My treasure. I don't let _anyone_ touch what's mine."

The arms wrapped around him tightened, Tom's chest pressed firmly against Harry's back. Harry let his head fall back to rest against Tom's shoulder and allowed himself to revel in the security that being surrounded by Tom's warmth gave him. After years with his relatives, it was still startling to think he might be worth something to anyone. To be wanted this fiercely was a new feeling.

"I'm not yours yet," Harry said, reminding them both.

"Not in all ways, no," Tom conceded, "but I will do everything in my power to ensure you will be."

The dark promise in the low growl of his voice made Harry's heart race, but not with fear. No, it was anticipation that flowed through his veins.

"What does it mean?" Harry asked, finally voicing the question that had been plaguing him for so long. "What does it mean, to be yours?"

Tom let out a pleased rumble and pressed a lingering kiss to the underside of Harry's jaw before he pulled back, dragging Harry with him. After a sharp tug and a moment of disorientation, they were both sitting at the foot of the tree, Harry still firmly ensconced in Tom's arms.

The manhandling was familiar. Tom had never had any qualms about arranging Harry as he saw fit. Smiling softly, he nestled himself firmly against Tom's side. He'd missed this easy contact in the last few days.

"What does it mean to be mine?" Tom echoed Harry's question. "What would it mean, to be my mate? Is that what you're asking?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm sure you can already feel the foundation of the bond between us," Tom said, and he accompanied the statement with a surge of his magic that sent shivers down Harry's spine. It felt as if the warm, protective glow of Tom's magic had settled into his very soul.

Harry focused his own magic on the bond and, very carefully, sent a small portion of it along the thread that connected them. When Tom let out a pleased rumble, Harry simply smiled up at him.

"The bond will grow," Tom replied with smug satisfaction, "and when it is fully formed, we will be able to send each other magic easily, as you might have already guessed. My emotions will be known to you, and yours to me. If we so choose, we can share our thoughts with each other, even over great distances."

"Would the emotions be constant?" Harry asked. That could easily become frustrating or distracting, and he didn't want to ever resent Tom.

Tom shook his head. "No, it's more of an…awareness. You would never feel alone again."

That actually sounded rather wonderful, Harry was forced to admit to himself as Tom's fingers threaded their way into his hair.

"My treasure would be your treasure," Tom said softly, stroking Harry's hair with a tender look on his face, "my magic would be your magic. My territory would be your territory. We would share our lives. That is what it would mean to be mine."

Harry's heart lurched sharply at the last. He would share his life with Tom, yes. But dragons lived so much longer with humans. By bonding Tom to him, would he cost his friend countless years of life? Or doom him to loneliness? He couldn't let himself be that selfish.

"Do dragons ever mate again?" Harry asked around the lump in his throat even at he tightened his grip on the fabric of Tom's tunic. "If their first mate dies?"

The change that came over his companion at the question was both instantaneous. Tom let out a low snarl, his red eyes blazing in the darkness as he somehow managed to clutch Harry even closer. His magic flared angrily around them, ready to tear apart anything that might come their way.

"You will _not_ be dying," Tom snapped, "No one will so much as _look_ at you with malicious intent again."

Harry, alarmed at the reaction his question had provoked, reached out with his magic and tangled it in Tom's own, soothing it as much as he could. Stretching out his arm, he ran his fingers along Tom's jaw, lingering in the places that made Tom close his eyes and rumble in contentment when he was in his true form.

When his friend had calmed enough for him to think it safe to do so, Harry corrected him gently.

"I will die," he told him, pressing two fingers against Tom's mouth before it could open in protest, "No, listen. I _will_ die. If not from a blade, or an illness, then time itself will be my downfall. Humans live fifty years under the best of circumstances. Dragons can expect more than ten times that."

Harry removed his hand, once he had said his piece, only for it to be captured by one of Tom's. Tom brought it to his mouth once again to press it to his lips in a lingering kiss. Tom turned Harry's hand in his own and pressed another lingering kiss to the inside of his wrist in a caress intimate enough to make the rhythm of Harry's breaths falter.

When Tom finally released his hand, Harry could see his countenance clearly. The angry, defiant expression had left Tom's face, replaced instead with a smile, somehow both smug and soft.

"A wizard's lifespan is much longer than that of an ordinary man," Tom said. "The more powerful their magic, the longer they live. A sorcerer of your skills, under normal circumstances, would live for one century, perhaps two."

Harry stared at him, shocked. He had had no idea.

"The reasons dragon live so long is again an artifact of their magic," Tom continued, eyes shining as they met Harry's own. "With no intervention on my part, I would live to see some one and a half thousand years." Ignoring Harry's shocked inhale, Tom reached out and cupped Harry's face in his hands. "Through the bond, my magic would be yours. Meaning time would effect you as it effects me — barring a fatal wound or fever, you would spend every one of those years by my side. You _will_ spend those years by my side — I will let nothing but time touch you, and even then, I plan to find a way to fight it."

Tom leaned down and pressed a kiss to Harry's lips, as if to seal the promise. It was chaste, and lasted no more than a moment, but it was enough to calm the storm that had begun to roil when Harry realized that he might leave Tom alone. It was a different reality he faced when they parted.

"I'll outlive everyone," Harry murmured. "All my friends."

"All but me, yes," Tom confirmed. "But that would have been true regardless, Harry. I doubt anyone you know can match your power. Now, you can watch the rise and fall of kings, can keep watch over their decedents if you so choose. Regardless, as long as we both live, we will have each other."

"As long as we both live?" Harry asked.

"The breaking of the bond is traumatic," Tom said, choosing his words with care. "Few survive the loss of their mate. The stronger the bond, the more likely this is to be true. I would not survive losing you," Tom said, brushing Harry's fringe from his face with care. "Perhaps only long enough to avenge your loss."

"Is that what happened to your parents?" Harry asked.

Jaw tight, Tom nodded.

"My mother was…hasty," Tom said after a long moment. "The bond she and my father formed…it was weak. She didn't court him properly." Tom paused there and took a deep breath before he seemingly forced himself to keep speaking. "His permission was forced, for all that I doubt she truly saw it that way. No true mating bond can result from such coercion. I must be your choice, as you are mine. No, what they had was weak, diseased. The slightest strain would have snapped it."

Harry took one of Tom's hands in both his own and ran his thumbs over it, doing his best to soothe Tom. His dragon was clearly gathering his thoughts and his strength both.

"Bringing a dragon into the world is an act of magic," Tom said at last. "The parents take a gemstone and infuse it with power. They use the bond to create life. My mother wanted a child, and my father was at that point convinced he wanted whatever my mother did." Tom buried his face in Harry's hair, clutching Harry tightly. "The bond was able to produce just enough to give me form before the strain was too much. The first thing I saw upon emerging from my egg was my mother's body."

Harry, unable to bear it anymore, turned and wrapped his arms around Tom. He wove his fingers into Tom's hair and ran his hand up and down Tom's back, soothing words escaping his mouth without any input from his mind. After a long moment, Tom wrapped his arms fully around Harry in turn, burying his face against Harry's neck. The breaths that puffed against Harry's skin were unsteady.

"I never understood. Not until I met you," Tom murmured against Harry's neck. "I would do _anything_ to have you. _Anything_ to make you mine. I would take all that you offered me. But _only_ what you offered."

"I know," Harry said softly, running his hands through Tom's hair. "I never doubted that."

"There were days I did," Tom confessed. "This past week has been _torture."_

Tom's hands shifted and his head turned and he pressed a long, openmouthed kiss to Harry's neck.

"Close enough to touch but being unable to, watching you doubt me," Tom said, punctuating each statement with a kiss. "How could you not know? How could you not see exactly what you meant to me? And the only way I could tell you was with _these_ ," his hand slid from Harry's shoulder to his chest, grasping at the livery collar to illustrate his point. "These, and the words of someone you thought a stranger."

Tom pulled back far enough to meet Harry's eyes, more serious than Harry had ever seen him before.

"I love you," Tom said. "I _love_ you. You are _everything_. More precious than any treasure. I would give up my entire hoard if it meant I could keep you. My one, my all. I love you. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, throat tight.

"I love you," Harry answered, voice an unsteady croak. "Tom Riddle. Voldemort. My dragon. I love _you_. Every part."

They crashed together in another kiss, full of all the things they couldn't find the words to say, magic tangled together and the bond practically singing between them.

Harry didn't know how long they had been entwined before Tom pulled away with a gasp.

"I will wait," Tom said, and it sounded more as if he were trying to convince himself than as if he was talking to Harry. "I will court you properly, as you deserve to be courted. I will do everything to make our bond as strong as it can be. I will _wait,_ damn it."

Harry laughed. It was a breathless, joyful sound that he barely recognized as having come from himself.

"What's next?" he asked, smiling.

A now-familiar pressure, a flash of light, and the sound of ripping garments were all the warning before Voldemort stood before him in all his glory. Before he had the chance to react, Tom snaked forward, grabbing Harry deftly by the collar in a familiar move. For once, Harry did nothing but smile, overjoyed as Tom situated Harry on his back.

"Next," Tom responded in a familiar rumble, "we visit your family. Without the ridiculous charade, it will take us perhaps twenty minutes to reach them, at this point."

Harry leaned forward and threw his arms around Tom's snout.

"Thank you," he said. "I know you're eager to find whoever did this to us, but I…"

"You need to see them," Tom said gently. "And there is no need to _thank_ me. I told you. We will share our lives. If that means tolerating those you call family to keep you happy, it is a small price to pay." Tom nudged Harry gently with his nose.

Tom's magic stirred, for all that his friend didn't move. A moment later Harry the magically repaired clothing his friend had been wearing folded on his lap along with the supply bag Tom had been carrying.

"Put your cloak back on," Tom told Harry once the items were secure. "It will be cold when we take to the sky."

Tom turned to face forward, wings fluttering against his side in a restless gesture before he began wading his way through the trees, heading for the edge of the forest. Away from the village though, Harry noted as he finished fastening his cloak. No doubt for the best. Few would react to the sight of Tom well under even the best of circumstances.

They broke the tree line, the lights of the village shining behind them, the countryside opening ahead of them. The sky was clear, the stars shining brightly and Harry smiled. Tom's wings unfurled to either side of him, the tips of one massive wing just barely brushing against the bark of the closest tree, hundreds of feet distant.

Tom turned his head, red eyes shining with excitement. Harry beamed back at him. Satisfied, Tom turned his face to the stars and his wings began to beat.

In a matter of moments they were leaving the ground behind, the village shrinking smaller and smaller until it was nothing but a tiny dot on the ground below him. Harry looked around, a smile he couldn't fight pulling at his lips until he was grinning madly. The wind rushed by as they sped through the air, Harry's only companions the stars and the love of his life. Untouchable. Free, in a way he had never been before.

He threw open his arms and laughed.

Tom turned his head, red eyes glowing with joy and a deep contentment Harry felt echoed in his own chest. Tom turned forward and roared, his victory and delight echoing for miles. Harry joined in with his own cheer, shouting at the top of his lungs.

Warm sturdy scales beneath him, the stars above them, the sky around them — for the first time in his life, he was home.


	6. Epilogue I

**So, it was getting APPALLINGLY long so I decided to break the epilogue up into two parts. The second part should hopefully be up within the next few days**

 **Unbeta'd and something of a mess, so please forgive me.**

* * *

Voldemort slowly spiraled thought the air above Frostmouth, looking for a secluded place to land. The town had changed a great deal since the last time he had flown over. Frostmouth used to be a quiet town. A handful of buildings clustered together, between the mountains and the river. Now there were several larger building close to town square, all of them with lights still lit despite the hour.

He noted the change with irritation and had to resist the impulse to light fire to those building which had extended beyond the boundary of the river. Voldemort had intended to land at the river's edge to avoid detection. That would not be possible now.

He would not have hesitated to do even a year ago. Strange, how things could alter so irrevocably in so short a time.

The blame lay entirely at the feet of the small speck of warmth he'd grown so used to feeling upon his hide.

There. A large copse of trees on the outskirts of town. That would do nicely. Voldemort swooped down towards the ground, landing with ease. He folded his wings and swiveled his head around to face his little pest.

Harry sat upon Voldemort's dark scales, his cheeks flushed a becoming pink. There was a wide smile across his face and a sparkle in his lovely green eyes, finer and clearer than an emerald Voldemort had ever encountered. The first courting gift concealed all the others, but Voldemort knew they were there. Knowing Harry was saturated with Voldemort's magic, wearing gift's of Voldemort's making was a heady feeling.

Harry would have made a fantastic addition to his hoard. Draped in jewels, clothed in only the finest silks from far away lands. Voldemort had been planning exactly how to adorn his newest prize long before he truly came to know exactly what sort of treasure it was he guarded.

Still, as tempting as the idea had been, the vision before him now was far sweeter, the sight of his own emblem glinting beneath Harry's chin enough to provoke a low rumble of satisfaction. Voldemort reached forward and gently grasped the hood of the cloak, designed for this sort of treatment, between his teeth before carefully lifting Harry from his back. He placed his pest softly on the ground. Once he was certain Harry had his footing, Voldemort pressed his snout forward until he could feel the warmth of Harry's skin against his scales. Voldemort inhaled deeply, taking a moment to relish the scent of his intended before the nuances of it were lost to him.

Voldemort pulled away, and let his eyes slip closed, bringing all his magic inward in a sharp rush, focusing on the form that had become so familiar since Harry had freed them both. Light flared brightly as he forced his magic to fit within the smaller shape. His limps shortened, the joints of his rear legs inverting themselves as his scales disappeared and his magic compressed him into the new shape he had demanded of it. The entire thing took less than a second, and when the light had faded, Voldemort had clad himself in human skin.

Harry's face took on the shade of pink that Voldemort so adored, green eyes glued once again to the bare skin of Voldemort's human form. Voldemort could hear his heart's frantic fluttering from here. Voldemort allowed himself a smug smile, stalking closer to his intended. In all his decades upon the world, he had found nothing as satisfying, as heady as the desire pouring from the man he would make his mate.

Before he could properly refresh his claim on his pest, to ensure he was once again covered in Voldemort's scent, in his magic, to make it clear exactly who the fledgling magician belonged to, Harry had adverted his gaze and shoved Voldemort's clothes at his bare chest.

Harry had repaired them already, and had done so perfectly. Voldemort shook his head in disbelief as he covered himself. Mending clothes was simple magic - as simple as the clothes were. Voldemort had crafted these clothes himself, imbuing every weave and stitch with his own magic. They should have been impossible for anyone to repair save himself and perhaps the Mage Merlin.

Harry truly had no idea exactly how extraordinary he was.

Voldemort used his magic to help clothe himself as quickly as possible before he turned around, determined to do something to rectify the issue.

"You are a marvel, Harry," Voldemort said, reached out and cupping the precious face between both his hands.

He leaned down and claimed his intended's mouth in a firm kiss, doing his best to pour his magic into the ghost of a bond between them, determined that his feelings - the awe, the admiration, the smug satisfaction at having such a marvel belong to him - should reach his most precious treasure.

Voldemort had no idea if he had been successful, but when Harry finally pulled away, hair mussed and lips a swollen ruby red, he couldn't bring himself to mind either way.

Still, that others would set eyes on Harry now, as delectable as he was, had every part of Voldemort screaming that he should scoop Harry up once again and carry his pest to his hoard, where no one but Voldemort himself would be able to gaze upon him.

It was not to be. Harry was not a dragon, despite his impressive magic and fiery rage, equal to that of any dragon Voldemort had ever met. Normally at this point in the mating process, both dragons would be driven to seclusion, possessiveness roused enough that nothing else would be tolerable. The dragon being courted might at time venture from the cave, purposely seek out other potential mates to determine how strong their courter was, to see how much they were truly desired. A dragon being courted would not settle for anything short of pure devotion.

Traveling had been a trial. Voldemort had had to fight his instincts every step of the way. Harry was not a dragon, and his behavior was not meant to provoke a reaction. Harry was a human. A compassionate, loyal, brave, intelligent, creative, beautiful, powerful human. Voldemort loved him exactly as he was.

The courtship was meant to show how much his intended was desired in all ways. He needed to respect Harry's humanity as well.

There would be no seclusion. Not until the mating itself, when Voldemort's instincts would demand it. So Voldemort was forced to endure, battling with his nature every step of the way. Only for Harry would he put himself through this.

Still, as difficult as it had been, Voldemort had adapted to life on the road with Harry. Hours every day, just the two of them. It had been all the best parts of the tower, the discussions, the closeness, the sense that the entire world consisted only of the two of them. But all of it with the fresh air on their faces, the knowledge that they could leave and go anywhere whenever they chose.

Even the interactions with others had become...tolerable. Every step closer to the sorcerer who had bound him, who had imprisoned Harry was a step closer to vengeance.

Still, it was one thing to encounter strangers on the road. Buildings were an entirely different matter. Too close. Too many people, too close to his Harry. The feeling of being trapped, within four walls. It would be the matter of a moment to to tear the building to shreds, to destroy any who dared to threaten him or his. But still, to have others that close to his Harry. To do be forced to do nothing while they encroached on his territory...the mere thought of it made him snarl.

He reached out and tugged Harry close, burying his face in Harry's neck, breathing deeply, taking in Harry's scent even as he did his best to ensure Harry carried his own. Only once he was certain his intended was properly marked did he pull away.

"Only for your would I put myself through this," Voldemort informed him.

Harry gave him a smile in response. His eyes, brighter than any emerald, sparkled with warmth and happiness. It was a familiar smile. One that Voldemort had come to covet in their time together. Of all the treasures Voldemort had managed to hoard during their time in captivity, it was Harry's smile that he had coveted most zealously. Revealing more and more of the hidden magics, of dragons, of himself in an effort to coax it forth once again.

It had been worth every surrendered secret to watch those emerald eyes, so often dark and filled with despair, brighten. The light of happiness made them even more beautiful, something Voldemort had not believed possible the first time he saw them.

The light in those eyes had Voldemort ruthlessly crushing what reluctance there was left. He doubted there was anything he wouldn't do for that smile, wouldn't do to ensure it never left Harry's face.

Only the feeling of his most precious treasure wrapped tightly in his arms kept him from lashing out. He would keep Harry safe. No matter the cost, Voldemort would not allow his chosen to be take from him.

Harry cast a look up at him, his brow furrowed in worry, and Voldemort could feel the moment when his magic reached out to the small tether between it, surrounding Voldemort's very core with his magic, doing a great deal to calm his raging instincts.

Voldemort gave Harry a smile. He was certain his mate thought it was in thanks, but it was so much more than that. Harry's magic was like nothing Voldemort had felt before. Even Merlin's magic paled next to Harry's. The man, ignorant of his magic for so long, seemed equally ignorant of the laws most humans believed governed it.

Humans saw magic as something foreign, something wild to be controlled and bent to their will. There were limits and words and ways to shape it to do their bidding.

Harry didn't use magic like a human. Harry used magic like a dragon.

So remarkable. So precious, his little pest.

Voldemort would keep him safe. Would keep him by his side. For all of time, if he had any say in the matter.

A spark of something familiar caught his attention, and he tugged Harry closer to his side as he rounded on it. Magic, he realized as he concentrated.

Familiar magic. Magic he had tasted before.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Your family," Voldemort said simply.

For that was where the traces were from. Those first weeks, Harry's own magic had held subtle hints of others. The way all magic mingled, between those who practiced together. Those who cared for one another. The kind of entwining he had sensed upon Harry was that of family. Protective enchantments powered by strong love, the magical tangling of those who had lived and casted together for months, if not years.

A day, perhaps two. That was all the time it had taken for the enchantment to erode it away, leaving only Harry's magic in it's place. But Voldemort remembered.

Voldemort remembered everything.

"Where?" Harry asked, twisting his head about, looking for a glimpse of the creatures who had taken him in as one of their own.

Voldemort tugged Harry even more tightly against his side before they began to walk, following the trail.

"Why were you so insistent we call upon your family?" Voldemort asked. As a human, he'd been unable to inquire about the impulse, as it seemed to be a natural one amongst the species. To ask would have given away his identity in ways that could have proved dangerous to the bond that was forming between them.

"Two reasons," Harry said. "The first is that I needed to let someone in the family know I was alright before I went looking for you," Harry said, leaning against Voldemort for a moment before he began walking once again. "I'd been missing. I didn't want them to worry when they didn't have to."

Voldemort fought the urge to sigh. That was entirely in character for his little pest. Motivated by the needs of others, often to the detriment of his own.

Still, it would not be allowed to become an issue. Voldemort was more than selfish enough for the both of them. To protect his mate was to protect himself.

"The second?" Voldemort asked, not wishing Harry to dwell on the tim they had spent in captivity. Not if Harry expected him to behave and keep control of his temper.

"Charlie," Harry said simply.

"Charlie," Voldemort repeated, rage swelling in him. Who was this Charlie? A rival? Voldemort would tear him to shreds. He would prove that he was the stronger, the fitter. The only one Harry could count on to protect him and provide for him.

Harry's magic rolled through the bond once again, and Voldemort turned to look at his pest with narrowed eyes.

Harry started back up at him, his eyes dancing mischievously and a small smile on his face.

Clearly his mate-to-be was learning to use their bond far more quickly than Voldemort had expected. After all his time with Harry, one would have thought that the human would stop surprising him.

It wasn't as if the dragon were going to complain. The more Harry understood their bond, the more he used it, the more he fed it with his magic, the more quickly it would grow.

It was behavior Voldemort could only encourage. He leaned down and claimed Harry's mouth once again.

He had thought that the human expression of affection would be strange, unsatisfying. He had been wrong. He didn't think he'd ever tire of kissing Harry.

Only once he was satisfied did he allow Harry to push him away again, staring down at his intended, savoring the flush to his cheeks, the drugged desire he could smell and taste, the way Harry's magic was still nestled against his own.

Harry gave him a half-hearted glare, and Voldemort allowed himself a smile that was mostly teeth. Harry had no secrets from him. Voldemort would discover them all and hoard them close, guarding them as the precious treasures they were.

He had seen Harry's heart. And he would do whatever it took to ensure it was his.

"He's like a brother to me, you possessive idiot," Harry groused at him.

Voldemort reached out and cupped Harry's face in one of his hands.

"Family, brother, it matters not," Voldemort told him seriously. "I will be second to none in your eyes."

Harry rolled his eyes, but Voldemort watch the way his face softened, one hand coming to clutch at his broach and didn't bother hiding how pleased he was. Good. Harry should rely on him always. That his intended took comfort from the gifts Voldemort had give him was only right.

"You're everything," Harry said simply. "You have been for...for longer than I know. I couldn't do any of this without you, Tom."

"You will never need to," Voldemort growled.

Harry would not be allowed to leave him. Ever. Voldemort would do whatever it took to keep him at his side.

Voldemort followed the trail to the center of town, where it lead to a large, impressive shopfront.

"So they did it then," Harry said. "The twins were always talking the shop. I gave them enough money to get off the ground."

Harry smiled.

"I never thought I'd see it," he said, matter-of-fact, and Voldemort once again fought the urge to snarl.

It unsettled him deeply, to know that there was still a threat. Not just to him, but to his mat. That much was obvious, as galling as it had been at first. He had not been defeated and captured for his ferociousness alone, but to use that skill set to play nursemaid to someone the sorcerer who had captured him thought worth guarding.

To have gone so far in the first place meant that they were still a threat to Harry. If they discovered that he had escaped, Voldemort had no doubt they would attempt to steal him away again.

The insult to him would have been more than enough to ensure the man was torn limb from limb as soon as possible. The threat to his mate? They would sing songs of Voldemort's vengeance for years to come.

He regarded the building before him with new eyes. Harry owned at least a piece of it. Which meant that it was a piece of Harry's hoard. Which meant that, as the suitor, he would have to demonstrate that he could properly protect it.

It would need new wards and protective charms, he thought, looking it over with a critical eye. More ornamentation as well. It was far too plain now. And stronger defenses.

Still, he couldn't very well criticize the place in front of Harry. It was the height of poor taste to insult someone else's hoard, and the fastest way to invoke a dragon's anger and provoke a fight. There was no need to risk an altercation with Harry. Not with the connection between them so new, still tenuous.

"It's a very nice shop," Voldemort offered.

Harry shot him a look through narrowed eyes, and the dragon did his best to project his sincerity. His mate may have been human, but Harry had a tongue as sharp as any dragon's teeth.

Harry held his gaze for a moment before turning back to the building.

"It really is, isn't it?" he said. "They've done some amazing work. Knew they had it in them."

He stared at it a moment longer, something wistful in his gaze, and Voldemort was helpless to do anything but stand there in silence support, unsure of the turn of his intended's thoughts. After long enough that Voldemort began to feel anxious about their position and concerned for his mate's distraction, Harry turned to him.

"Come on," Harry said, taking Voldemort's human hand in his own. "Let's go around back. There are some people I want you to meet."

* * *

George started into the fire blazing in the hearth, trying to keep his anticipation under control. For the past two days, for all that he knew it was much too soon, he'd been unable to do anything but linger near the door, waiting for visitors. He'd been waiting for this day for more than a year. Waiting so long it was still hard to believe it was actually happening.

Harry was coming home.

The message Harry had sent had been sparse in details, but it had contained the most important information. Harry was alive. Harry was alive, and he was on his way to them.

Harry was traveling on foot, which meant the earliest he could possibly be expected was tomorrow evening. That hadn't stopped George from spending the last forty-eight hours camped in front of the fire, waiting for any sign of company.

There was a knock on the door, and George jerked upright. A knock on the door at this time of night could only mean one thing. He sprinted over to the door and yanked it open.

Harry Potter stood on the other side.

George darted forward and wrapped his arms around him. Harry was real under his hands, flesh and blood wrapped in George's embrace. Harry was here. Harry was alive. George wrapped his arms more tightly around him. He was afraid that if he loosened his arms at all, Harry would disappear.

"You're here," he said, pulling back, needing to see Harry, needing to be sure it was real. "You're really here."

Familiar green eyes gazed up at him, wet and shining. Harry beamed up at him, black hair as messy as always.

"I'm here," Harry said.

George hugged him again, helpless to do anything else.

The door banged behind him and a moment later George was shoved to the side and he watched as Fred threw himself at Harry. George smiled, contentedness welling up in his chest. This was how it should be.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and George looked away from the family reunion only to find himself staring at a stranger. He gave a small jerk of surprise, even as he chastised himself. Harry had mentioned in his letter that he was brining company.

He was tall, with dark hair and dark eyes. Incredibly handsome, even irritated as he clearly was. His high-quality clothes and jeweled accessories worn so casually spoke to an obscene amount of wealth. He struck George as arrogant, and he couldn't help but wonder where on earth Harry had managed to find the man, let alone what could have persuaded Harry to travel with him.

"Where the hell have you been?" Fred demanded as he pulled back. "And what the hell are you wearing?"

Fred's comment prompted George to examine Harry, and his mouth fell open when he truly took in what his friend had on. It was even more ostentatious than what the stranger was wearing. His broach, belt tags, and livery collar were all adorned with precious stones, each bigger than the nail of George's thumb. Rubies and Emeralds set in silver, carefully worked into intricate designs. George reached out and ran his fingers over Harry's cloak. His eyebrows rose as he felt the soft, silky texture of the fabric. Expensive. Everything was incredibly expensive.

"They were gifts," Harry muttered, reaching out and pulling his cloak away from George, wrapping it tightly around himself as he blushed.

George shot Fred a look, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head just slightly towards Harry. Was his twin seeing what he was seeing? Fred gave a minute nod, a smile spreading across his face.

"Gifts from somebody special, judging by that blush," Fred teased.

"Someone very special," George said with a grin. "What, you don't have time for family, but you have time to fall in love? I'm hurt, Harry."

"When do we get to meet the lucky lady? Or is it a lucky lord?" Fred asked.

Harry's blush darkened, but his shoulders squared. He took a step back, away from Fred and towards the man he was traveling with. Harry looked up, and his smile went from something tense and embarrassed to something warm and genuine. The kind of smile George had seen on the faces of his mother and his father, on Ron's face when he looked at Hermoine. On Bill's face when he looked at Fleur. It was the smile of a man in love.

The man closed the space between them, wrapping his arm around Harry, tugging him closer in an obviously proprietary move. George narrowed his eyes. Harry deserved more than to be just a trophy.

"This is Tom Riddle," Harry said, both blush and smile still lingering on his face.

Tom dipped his head in acknowledgment, but for all that his expression was pleasantly blank there was something in his eyes that made the hair on the back of George's neck stand on end.

"A pleasure," Riddle said.

"I can tell," Fred said wryly. "How did you two meet? How long has this been going on?"

"I'll explain in a minute," Harry told them. "But I only want to do it once. Is Charlie home? I'd rather get you all in one go, and I've got some things I need to ask him."

"He's here, yeah. There's a wing of dragons up in that mountain he's been studying for awhile now," George told Harry. "Charlie hasn't gone up since we got your letter, though. He was too afraid he might miss you. Been working on consolidating his notes instead."

More like staring at the wall, just waiting for Harry to arrive. Not that George could blame him. He hadn't gone to the shop since the message had arrived. He'd been too distracted by the news for it to be safe to invent new products or craft anything. Hell, George hadn't even been able to man the counter - Lee had told him to go home after he'd made the third mistake in an hour. George had sat at home instead, reading the message over and over, staring at the fire and wonder what the hell to expect when Harry finally arrived, fielding letters from the rest of the family letting them know that there wasn't any other news since the first letter and that'd he'd be certain to write every one of them the moment Harry arrived.

Fred had taken the opposite approach - throwing himself totally and completely into his work to distract himself. He'd been experimenting with more and more temperamental spells. He'd been snapping at the staff, viciously mocking and humiliating them for the smallest mistakes. When he'd nearly blown up the workshop and managed to send three people home in tears, Lee had sent George a note, desperate for some sort of help. George had marched the shop and dragged Fred out by the ear.

Poor Lee. George would have to be sure to remember to give him a bonus for putting up with them once all this was over.

George suddenly realized that they'd kept Harry standing on the doorstep all this time and promptly felt like the biggest arse in the world.

"You come in and get settled," George said, gesturing Harry and riddle to the pair of seats closest to the fireplace.

He gave Harry a smile as he passed, and Riddle a suspicious look. There was something about the man that was deeply unsettling. George didn't trust him at all. Riddle returned his look with a sinister smile, his eyes flashing a vicious red. George took a sharp step back, staring at him wide eyed. Brown eyes stared back at him, Riddle smirking as he passed.

A trick of the light. It had to be.

Forcing his breathing back to normal, George turned his attention back to Harry, now settled at the table, the fire at his back. Riddle settled into the seat beside him, flaring his cape behind him with an elaborate flourish. He reached and and wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders, and Harry seemed to melt into him, his head resting on Riddle's shoulder and a soppy smile on his face.

George felt a little ill looking at it. Some was not right here. He shot Fred a look and was grateful to see his twin eyeing Riddle with great distrust.

The sooner he got Charlie down here, the sooner they could start getting to the bottom of whatever the hell this was.

"I'll go get Charlie, then" George said. He made to leave the room, but before he'd gone more than a few steps he spun around and darted forward, wrapping Harry in a firm embrace.

"Missed you," George whispered fiercely, happiness and relief swirling together in a mix that left him giddy. Harry was here. He was here, and he was safe, real beneath George's arms. "So glad you're back. Never do that again."

Before Harry could respond, George was off. He sprinted up the stairs, the giddiness still flowing through him. The grin that stretched across his face was so wide that it hurt his cheeks, but George couldn't stop. Harry was really back. Here, under their roof, alive and well. After being missing for so long, with no one able to find him, it was nothing short of a miracle.

George threw open Charlie's door, not bothering to knock. His older brother was exactly where George had imagined he'd be - sitting at his desk, staring at the wall.

Charlie had started violently when the door had burst open, but he took one look at George's face and shoved his chair back so sharply it toppled over as he stood. Neither of them paid it any mind. There were more important things to focus on at the moment.

"Is it..." Charlie trailed off, the expression on his face making it obvious which words it was that he couldn't bring himself to voice.

George just nodded, still grinning helplessly, unable to stop long enough to speak.

Charlie pushed past him, barreling down the short hallway toward the stairs, throwing questions over his shoulder as he did so.

"He wasn't supposed to be here until tomorrow," Charlie said. "How did he get here so early? And where the hell has he been?"

Charlie didn't wait around for the answers, almost at the stairs by the time George had caught up with him.

"He's not staying long," George said, keeping pace easily. "But he wanted to let us know he was alright. And he needed to ask you some questions, apparently. And he's involved with someone. Rich ponce by the looks of things. Name's Riddle. No idea how he and Harry met, not yet at any rate, but something about him sets my teeth on edge."

Charlie froze, a foot hovering just above the top step of the stairs. George watched as the as foot was slowly brought up to rest once again on the landing. Charlie turned around to face George, his eyes frantic in a way that had George straightening immediately.

"What did you say?" Charlie asked, his voice completely free of inflection.

"Riddle," George repeated, studying his brother with growing alarm. He'd thought there was something...off about the man Harry had brought with him, but Charlie's reaction made it seem the situation as much much worse than he had feared. "Do you know him?"

"Circe, I really hope not," Charlie muttered before he sprinted down the stairs.

* * *

Charlie burst into the kitchen, half-terrified that this was all some sort of dream. He knew it wasn't a prank. The twins might have been mischievous, but they were never cruel. Never this cruel, at any rate.

Sitting at the table, hair as much of a disaster as usual and bright green eyes shining with unshed tears, sat Harry Potter. Charlie had already taken several strides towards Harry to embrace him before other details became apparent. Such as how Harry was dressed.

Charlie found himself staring dumbly at the brooch on Harry's chest, the familiar device freezing him in place. While he didn't recognized the specific emblem, the position of the dragon on the brooch could mean only one thing, to those who knew how to read the signs.

"Circe, Harry, what have you gone and gotten yourself into now?" Charlie asked, voice hoarse.

"Oi!" Fred said, reaching out and smacking Charlie over the back of the head. "What the hell kind of greeting is that? Who are you, Ron?"

Harry let out a wet sounding laugh. "No, he's right. My luck hasn't changed a bit."

"Harry…" Charlie said, searching desperately for the right words and finding none. "That brooch…"

"Is part of what I'm here to talk to you about, yeah," Harry replied.

"You have a remarkable eye, Mr. Weasley," an unfamiliar voice spoke.

Charlie jerked in surprise, turning his attention to the occupant of the room he hadn't noticed before, so caught up in the sight of his wayward brother. When he did he felt every hair stand on end. He could only hope his suspicions were wrong.

"Charlie, this is Tom Riddle," Harry said, gesturing lazily to the man beside him.

Charlie felt his knees giving out, and he staggered forward a few steps to fall gracelessly into a chair at the table.

Riddle. The last name taken by all courting dragons while in human disguise. An oblique nod to the requirements that needed to be met to allow the process to advance.

Charlie allowed the reality of the situation to crash over him, finally acknowledging what he'd wanted so desperately to ignore moments before. Harry was being courted by a dragon. The dragon currently sitting beside him.

They would all have to tread very, very carefully.

"Riddle?" he couldn't help asking, a small part of him clinging desperately to the hope that he might be mistaken.

"Riddle," the man answered.

"Ha!" Harry crowed from beside him. "I told you he'd figure it out. You didn't believe me, but I told you."

Riddle rolled his eyes, but Charlie saw that there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You know...Harry you know who this man is?" Charlie asked picking his words with care.

"Yeah. I've known for days," Harry said with a shrug, leaning further into the dragons' embrace. "He's not particularly subtle."

"Subtlety would not have suited my purposes under the circumstances," the Dragon said, a smug smirk on his face as he ran his hands casually through Harry's hair. "You made my life difficult enough as it was."

"How far along are you?" Charlie asked, looking not at Harry but the dragon beside him.

Harry had accepted the courtship. Not only that but he had passed the most tricky bit of the courtship. Harry had figured out that the "envoy" and the dragon were one in the same, proving how well he knew his future partner.

"Not particularly far," Voldemort answered

"Seriously?" Harry asked, turing to look at him. "What's still left?"

The dragon dropped the glamor over his eyes, allowing them to glow a bright, malevolent red. The twins let out sharp gasps, at Charlie gave a small jerk at the reminder of their presence. Still, it was the timeline that threw him the most.

"I need to demonstrate that I can provide for you," the Dragon told him, long, pale fingers running through Harry's disastrous hair. "To be a worthy mate, I must be able to provide you with food, shelter, and protection."

Harry's brow arched. "The tower doesn't count?"

The dragon's eyes darkened in a way that had Charlie casting glances the twin's way, wanting to make sure they were ready to defend themselves at a moment's notice. Dragon's were temperamental at the best of times, and they only became more volatile while mating, all their instincts heightened, making them even more dangerous than usual.

"No," the dragon growled. "The tower does not count."

"Because we had no choice," Harry said, his face soft, as he reached up to press his hand against the dragon's face.

The dragon reached out and covered Harry's hand with his own, his eyes closed. When they opened again, they glowed with an entirely different sort of heat. Something soft and warm, rather then filled with rage.

"Yes," the dragon answered in a low rumble. "Because we did not have a choice."

"Right," Fred said, arms crossed over his chest. "Does anyone want to fill George and I in on what the hell it is that everyone seems to know but us?"

A sheepish look came over Harry's face, and he leaned away with a sigh, only to have the dragon snatch his hand before tugging Harry into his lap, wrapping his cloak around them both and glaring at all the Weasleys.

Charlie held a hand out, silencing Fred and George's protests before they had a chance to voice them. Charlie only knew a few species of dragons who could have red eyes and they were all incredibly aggressive under even the best of circumstances.

Harry cast the dragon an exasperated look over his shoulder, but he didn't fight Riddle's hold. If anything, he became more relaxed as he settled into protective embrace.

"Right," Harry said, placing his hand over the dragons where it had wrapped around his waist. "What do you want to know?"

"Where the hell have you been for the past year?" Fred asked, jumping straight to the point.

Harry took a deep breath, gripping the dragon's arm even tighter.

"I was on my way to your parents' after I visited...after I'd visited mine."

Charlie winced at the reminder. Harry had finally found out where his parents graves were and had wanted to visit them alone, despite the protests of, well, everyone. When Harry hadn't returned...in his more frantic moments, Charlie had feared Harry had done something drastic. He knew that his family likely had as well.

"I let someone share my fire, and they drugged my food," Harry said straightforwardly, earning a low growl from the dragon wrapped around him.

"Who?" Fred asked, an expression on his face Charlie recognized.

It was never good for the person involved when the twins decided to take something seriously. They were gifted at magic, though the uses they tended to put that to made people forget that fact.

"I don't remember," Harry told them, jaw clenched. "That entire night is a blur. I think they gave me something to make me forget, instead of just giving me something to knock me out."

"Where did you wake up?" George prompted gently, but not before Charlie caught him shooting his twin a dark look.

"The top room of a tower," Harry said, wryly. "A tower guarded by an ornery dragon."

Charlie gaped at him. Dragons never guarded anything but their hoard of their own volition. Meaning it had been a person who had forced the dragon there. A magician of some sort, since magic was the only way to accomplish such a feat.

Harry's words from earlier rang in Charlie's ears. He'd mentioned the tower, and both of them not having choices.

"Tom" was the dragon who had guarded Harry in the tower. Charlie was certain of it.

From what little Charlie had been able to figure out about "Tom" from their interactions so far, he was not the sort of dragon that would be easy to capture. It took a great deal of power to harness a dragon. The more powerful the dragon, the more difficult it became. To harness any of the dragon species that could have red eyes would be an almost impossible task. That someone had gone to all that trouble to keep Harry locked up meant only one of two things - someone wanted to keep him protected desperately, or needed him out of the way.

Probably the former. If they'd needed Harry out of the way that badly, they would have just killed him.

This only left more questions than it answered, as far as Charlie was concerned. Still, the Weasleys had lots of contacts in the magical community, and now they knew the right questions to ask. Those contacts had been useless when Harry had gone missing. The family simply hadn't know enough, and no one in the community had been able to help. But now? Now they could finally make some progress.

This could wait until later. As troubling at it was, there were more immediate issues Charlie was concerned about. Namely, the dragon sitting across the table, clutching the boy who was like a brother to Charlie close to him.

"What can you tell me about the dragon?" Charlie asked, not caring that he was being far from subtle.

"Absolutely enormous," Harry said. "Several stories tall enormous. Black scales, with red eyes and lots and lots of horns."

Hearing that the dragon had red eyes was enough to have both the twins eyeing the dragon across the table, no doubt one step closer to figuring out what Charlie himself had already discovered.

A Slytherin, Charlie realized with growing horror. The most vicious, dangerous breed of all. Knights and sorcerers had dedicated themselves to hunting them to extinction for that reason alone. And they had nearly succeeded. There was only one Slytherin left now. Had only been one Slytherin left now for eighty years.

Charlie prayed he was wrong. Maybe the dragon had been a dark blue or green rather than a true black. A blue or a green was still incredibly dangerous, but worlds better than a Slytherin.

"I escaped," Harry said, and the dragon beside him snorted at rolled his eyes. "I did!" Harry said.

"You didn't get past the border of the enchantment. It doesn't count," the dragon said, red eyes sparkling with what Charlie could have sworn was mischief

"It most certainly does," Harry replied indignantly, though the smile on his face gave him away as being anything but. "I got past you, I got out of the castle. I was only the failsafe that was clearly meant to keep you from escaping that stopped me. You're just a sore loser."

"I wouldn't know, as I have never lost," the dragon said. "Especially not to a little pest such as yourself."

"Impossible lizard," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

The dragon lowered his head and whispered something in Harry's ear before pressing a long, lingering kiss to his throat.

"A dragon," George said flatly. "You're dating a dragon."

"Not just any dragon," Fred corrected his twin. "The dragon who kept him imprisoned in the tower."

"That makes is so much better," George answered with heavy sarcasm. "Wait. Wait, hang on a minute. A dragon named Tom?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I only called him that to piss him off, and by the time I realized he was just as trapped as I was, the name had kind of stuck. Besides, he couldn't really communicate for the first month or so, so it wasn't as if he could correct me."

"So what is it then?" Fred goaded. "This dreadful name that so many dare not speak?"

"Voldemort," Harry said offhand.

Charlie choked. He couldn't help it. He turned to the stranger sitting beside Harry and stared, unable to help himself. Voldemort. Voldemort was sitting in his kitchen.

"Charlie?" George asked, starting at him in concern. "What's wrong?"

Riddle's gaze fell on Charlie, and the stare seemed to have an almost physical weight to it. Then he smiled. It was not a kind smile, for all that Riddle seemed to be pleased.

"So you've heard of him, then?" Riddle asked, eyes practically gleaming.

Charlie nodded mutely, unwilling to take his eyes from the dragon in front of him.

The last Slytherin. Here in, his brothers' kitchen. Courting Harry.

Voldemort, the most dangerous dragon alive.

"You never do anything by halves, do you Harry?" Charlie asked, voice strangled. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

Harry rolled his eyes in response before he continued telling his tale. The escape attempts, the realization that the dragon was trapped by the enchantment just as Harry was. Harry managing to do enough damage to the magical restraint keeping Tom trapped for them to communicate with words. The lessons Voldemort had given him, how close they'd grown during their time in captivity. Breaking the enchantment. Waking up alone in a room in the town inn.

Harry titled his head back to meet Voldemort's eyes.

"Where the hell were you, by the way? It's not like you to leave me alone if you have any choice in the matter."

Voldemort pulled Harry even closer, his chin resting on Harry's shoulder.

"I felt it the moment the enchantment broke that day," he said, one hand resting on the livery collar around Harry's throat, the other wrapped tightly around Harry's waist. "I dealt with the intruder with ease after all my magic had been returned to me."

Harry clenched his jaw, and Voldemort leaned forward to nuzzle against his neck in what Charlie recognized as a gesture of affection and comfort in dragons. It was reserved for Mates and family members only. That Voldemort was using it here and now did more to convince Charlie of the dragon's regard for Harry than hours of conversation could have.

"I had to tear apart the courtyard to get at you," Voldemort said, his red eyes glowing, voice a low, rumbling growl. "When I found you, I thought you were dead."

Harry tuned so that he was facing Voldemort, running his hands through the dark hair in a soothing motion.

Voldemort closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Harry's for a long moment. Gathering himself, Charlie realized.

Not that Charlie could blame him, really. There was no doubt in Charlie's mind that Voldemort had seen Harry as his as early as the first month in captivity. Dragons were known for adding humans to their hoards. And Harry was a handsome man, with incredible magical power. Of course a dragon would find him attractive, no matter the circumstances.

For a dragon to lose any item within their hoard was far from trivial. Villages had been raised over nothing more than stealing a small trinket. Living things were infinitely more precious. Dragons were known to mourn for a decade, if not more, after the death of a human in their hoard. The only thing more terrifying than a grieving dragon was a nesting one. Dragon grief involved fire and vengeance and blood.

A dragon who had a human taken from them? That was a terrifying thought, no matter the dragon. But a mourning Voldemort...he would have torn the world apart.

At last the dragon seemed to gather himself, and Charlie shoved his terror at the thought of what the beast might have done down deep. Now was not the time.

"When I discovered that you were alive," Voldemort continued, the barest tremble in his voice the only sign of how deeply the incident had affected him, "I had no choice but to take you to the town. You had exhausted yourself magically, and there was nothing I could do to help you recover. You needed to rest. So I donned human form and took you to the inn, and enchanted you so to sleep until you were recovered." The dragon frowned, turning a slight glare on Harry, "It should have taken days," Voldemort told him. "For any other magician, even one as powerful as you, it should have taken days."

Charlie's hands were clenched tightly under the table. Voldemort was right. It should have taken days.

"I set a number of wards to warn me when you awoke. Wards to be certain that no one save myself could enter your room. Clearly," Voldemort said, his eyes narrowed as they met Harry's own, "I should have set wards that would keep you in as well as others out. An oversight on my part."

Charlie had to fight the urge to snort. Anyone who had known Harry had felt the same at some point. He was far, far too good at getting himself into trouble despite everyone's intentions to keep him out of it.

"Believing you to be a safe as I could make you," Voldemort said, his attention back on Harry and ignoring the rest of them, "I went to check on my hoard."

That Charlie could understand. The protection of the hoard was a dragon's highest imperative instinctively. To have been separated from it for long periods of time had been enough to drive dragons mad in the past. Once he was free, Voldemort would have no choice but to ensure everything was just as he'd left it. That's he'd managed to wait a t all spoke a great deal about his regard for Harry.

"I added the few trinkets I gathered that seemed worth saving and began to craft. My disguise, yes, but more importantly, your gifts. Once I had donned my human disguise, I took steps to ensure you would be well provisioned in the time that it took you to discover my intentions."

Voldemort wrapped his arm more tightly around Harry's shoulder and exhaled.

"When I returned and found you gone, it was all I could do to keep from razing the town to the ground. Only the knowledge that one of them might had seen where you had gone or who had taken you stayed me."

"And then I found you back where we had parted ways, that damned collar in your hands..." Voldemort shook his head. "You know the rest."

Harry was staring at the dragon, looking as if he was torn between apologizing and smacking the beast upside the head. He settled for neither, turning his attention back to the group at large.

"So there you have it, the whole story."

Except it wasn't. Oh, Harry might have thought it was, but there were things that Charlie desperately needed to know. Harry was being courted by a dragon. Not just any dragon, but Voldemort, the last Slytherin. There was information Charlie needed not just for professional reasons, but to make sure Harry was safe. As safe as Harry ever was, at any rate.

Perhaps being bonded to a dragon was the best they could hope for, under the circumstances. There was someone out there who was willing to imprision Harry for reasons unknown. A devoted, dangerous dragon was the best defense Charlie could imagine.

If Harry knew that Tom was the dragon he had grown to know, then the most important step had already passed. Harry had accepted the courtship, and had done so willingly. He must have, or else the beginnings of the bond wouldn't have formed.

Without the bond to help keep him stable, Charlie didn't think there was any way a breed as aggressive as a Slytherin could be in close quarters with an unclaimed mate and have things end well. He would have burned them and the town to the ground by now if he hadn't had a tangible claim to Harry keeping him calm. Charlie had spent enough time around dragons to know that without a doubt.

It was a good sign, as reluctant as Charlie was to admit it. For Voldemort to have agreed to visit Harry's family meant that he was in control of his instincts, at least to some degree. In control enough to recognize that what Harry needed and what Voldemort's instincts were telling him to do were contradictory, and to yield to Harry's needs rather than succumb to the drive to seclude them both. A drive that was no doubt all the more pressing after Voldemort had spent so long away from his own hoard.

That he was here, with Harry, made it clear that Harry was worth more to him than all the treasure it had taken him decades to accumulate.

Exactly as it should be, as far as Charlie was concerned. That a dragon felt the same, however, spoke to the depth of his devotion.

The timeline of the courtship made his head spin, still. Dragon courtship was notorious for it's length, dragons incredibly picky when it came to who they would deign to spend the rest of their lives with. The dragon who initiated the courting was eager to complete it as soon as possible, but it wasn't uncommon for the dragon they were courting to drag the process out for two or three years.

Dragons courting humans took nearly as long. While their humans didn't have the same instincts to push and test a prospective mate the way dragons did, the circumstances held them back more than instincts ever could. As rare a phenominon as it was, th timeline was hard to pin down. But at minimum, Charlie guessed it would take most weeks, if not months to be comfortable accepting courtship from a dragon. Even once they had, it still took most upwards of six months, if not longer, to solve the "riddle". To realize that the human emassary and the dragon were one in the same.

Harry had managed to cover that much ground in a week.

"What's next for you?" Charlie asked, making his question as broad as possible.

Charlie honeslty had no idea. His usual timeline was shot to hell, and there were too many agrivating factors in play for him to make a guess of any sort.

"I'm not sure," Harry said with a frown, shifting so that he could face Voldemort more easily. "I mean, I know long term we need to do something about whoever it was who locked us up. We had a next step planned in terms of finding that information, but..." Harry shrugged. "Things have changed a bit since the last time we discussed it."

Harry turned and faced Voldemort, looking at the beast with concern.

"What do you need?" Harry asked him, his voice low enough that Charlie had to strain to hear. "We've spent the last week running around doing what I want. I know it wasn't comfortable for you. What do you need?"

"You," Voldemort rumbled, burying his face in Harry's hair. "I need you, and that will always be true."

"You have me," Harry said simply. "What else?"

The only answer he got was a long, drawn out kiss that had all the Weasleys exchanging glances, eyebrows arched. If Charlie didn't know better, he would have thought Voldemort was trying to eat Harry. Fred and George both watched with wide eyes and mischievous expressions, but Charlie stared at the ceiling. There were lots of things he didn't need to know about the boy he considered a baby brother, and this was most certainly one of them. Even his interest in dragons and the idea of a human-dragon courtship taking place in front of him wasn't enough to overcome it. Not with the human and dragon in question.

At last the two parted, and Charlie turned his attention once again to the unusual pair.

"What do you need?" Harry asked again, face beet red and hair mussed, refusing to so much as glance towards the other side of the table.

"It's not safe," Voldemort said. "None of it was touched, but it's still not safe."

His eyes were ruby red, and his words were practically snarls. Charlie's knuckles were white as he grasped the table. If Voldemort lost control inside, the house, the shop, and all the surrounding buildings would be destroyed. As if they were made of straw. At that was only the beginning of the destruction he could cause.

"What isn't safe?" Harry asked, his voice steady. "Tell me, Tom. What isn't safe?"

"Everything," Voldemort answered. "None of it is safe."

His den, Charlie suddenly realized. Whoever it was who had enchanted the dragon had violated the sanctity of his den. If Charlie had to guess, the sorcerer had battled him and captured him there. There was no way Voldemort would ever feel safe there again.

Harry's confused expression made it clear he still had no idea what the issue was, but there was a familiar, stubborn set to his shoulders.

"What do we have to do?" Harry asked, reaching up to cup Tom's face in one of his hands. "What do we have to do to make it safe?"

Voldemort turned his head, hand snaking out faster than Charlie's eyes could track, wrapping around Harry's wrist before he turned and pressed his nose against it, breathing deeply.

"We have to make a new home," Voldemort said. "Together."

Harry smiled at him, and Charlie found himself struck by it. Harry loved Voldemort. Truly, he did. And Voldemort cared about him in turn.

"Together," Harry said. "I think I like the sound of that."


End file.
